


You've Got Science

by engineerleopoldfitz (aching_for_distance), Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, definitely not canon, you've got mail - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 74,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aching_for_distance/pseuds/engineerleopoldfitz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for Verbivore8642, for the 2014 FitzSimmons Secret Santa Exchange. You've Got Mail AU</p><p>~*~</p><p>Fitz never found that clever thing to say to Simmons, and a decade later, they're both still struggling with their regrets and an imploded partnership. A story of anonymous messages, miscommunicating science babies, meddling best friends, and perhaps a much-needed reconciliation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verbivore8642](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/gifts).



Jemma huffed out a breath as she skimmed over the statistics generated in her last report. Something was off in the dataset, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. It was too late in the evening to start poring over the raw data, so she set it aside for the night, and eagerly logged into the SciOps forums, instead. 

An anonymous message board and data repository, SHIELD scientists were encouraged to post theories, research projects, questions and roadblocks for review and comment by other scientists around the world. With identities and locations removed, and logs to prove who had generated an idea first, the online service had eliminated quite a few departmental and location based rivalries, encouraging cooperation and innovative, cross-disciplinary solutions to development issues. 

Being located at the Treehouse, in a remote section of the South American rain forests, Jemma had limited resources at hand. After months of scoffing at the forum idea, she’d finally given in when one of her projects had nearly failed in a rather spectacular manner. Frustrated and terrified of losing so much time and effort, she’d recklessly uploaded the entire thing to the forums one night, desperately hoping someone had an idea of how to circumvent the instability of two of her chemical ingredients. 

The next morning she’d been shocked to have a reply from someone suggesting she embed a canister of one chemical inside the container of the other, a funnel allowing a slow, gradual mixing of the two substances and thus controlling the inevitable reaction between the two. It had been such a simple, yet elegant solution, and she’d been entirely impressed. Her effusive thanks to her unknown advisor had led to an extensive private message thread, and while she still had no clue who he - she assumed it was a he, based on the brusque, straightforward and no nonsense replies she got from him - was, Jemma wished the forums weren’t so restrictive about anonymity. 

Jemma was a brilliant biochemist, but she wasn’t the best with technology. It would be amazing to have someone more knowledgeable to weigh in on her projects without having to share everything through the forums. Circumventing that to collaborate with this anonymous engineer would make things so much easier, but the penalties for revealing identities on the forums were steep. It simply didn’t work without everyone’s cooperation and SHIELD was always watching. Even the ‘private’ messages were monitored, so she hadn’t even broached the idea with him. 

She was due to present her project at a SciOps conference in a few days, and Jemma was hoping he might be there. Certainly he’d seen enough of her work to recognize it in the presentation, if he was there, and if he was interested in meeting her. Despite herself, Jemma felt a little thrill go through her. It was likely foolish to harbor a crush on someone she’d never even seen, but she’d always been attracted to intelligence, regardless of the form it came in, and he was a borderline genius. Just her luck, even if she did meet her anonymous friend, he’d be married and old enough to be her father. 

Clicking through the forums, she was disappointed to see she didn’t have any new messages and none of the new projects posted interested her. She logged off again quickly, and headed to bed. Tomorrow she’d need to pack and get herself out to the airport for her flight to the States. 

At that exact same moment, a few thousand kilometers away, Leopold Fitz was busying dividing his attention between two screens, alternating between skimming over the data sets for his upcoming presentation and looking over the SciOps forums. It had become something of a habit for him, in the year since the forum had gone live, to spend nearly all of his limited free time perusing the various pleas for advice. 

It wasn’t that his work at The Ranch wasn’t satisfying, just that it was… well, mundane. He didn’t get to play with any of the 0-8-4 that were sent to The Sandbox, and he didn’t get the thrill of working on developing new technology to help field teams the way the R&D department at The Hub did, so he subverted his extra energy by trying to help his fellow scientists. It wasn’t as if maintaining SHIELD’s fleet of aircraft and automobiles needed his full attention anyway. 

Triplett, or Trip, was the only specialist on base with any mechanical skill and the one person that seemed to be able to tolerate his brusque manner, often teased him that he was merely trying to satisfy his need to be the smartest man in the room, but that wasn’t it, not really. Yes, Fitz was proud of his intelligence, and saw no reason to hide it, but he really did just mean to be helpful, and his friend’s teasing hit on a sore spot for him. He had never had much luck when it came to collaboration, his socially awkward manner and inability to sugar-coat anything often earning him a cold shoulder from his peers. 

He had hoped that once he arrived at the SciTech Academy that would no longer be the case, but much to his dismay, he’d found his fellow cadets to be just as cliquish as the classmates he’d left behind in Glasgow. Fitz winced as he recalled the only successful collaboration he’d had while at the Academy, a mechanical device that allowed for a controlled freezing reaction. The project had been with a cadet his age, and it still pained him to think about how badly he had bungled his attempt to even speak to her. She hadn’t been rude, but she’d made it clear she wanted no part of him, and Fitz decided then and there to keep to himself from then on. Naturally, they’d been assigned to the same Hub lab on graduation, but by then it had been too late. Fitz found it nearly impossible to even try communicating with her, and the experiment had been short lived, resulting in their lodging mutual requests for transfers. 

But even he needed social interaction, despite what Trip might say, and Fitz had rather taken to the idea of the anonymous forums. The fact that he could review what he was saying before posting removed any anxiety he experienced in face to face social interactions, and for the first time, he found himself forming acquaintances far more easily than ever before. 

Satisfied that his data was well-analyzed and ready for the upcoming conference, Fitz closed out of the program and devoted his full attention to the forums. He made a few comments here and there on projects that seemed to be struggling with the more technological components, but his eyes kept glancing up toward the message notifications, hoping to see the little envelope light up. The back and forth he’d had going with the anonymous biochemist was one of the few things he really looked forward to, enjoying her (he assumed it was a her, given the way she’d gone on and on thanking him) obvious wit and eagerness to explore. She felt like a kindred spirit, and Fitz was torn between being glad to have found her and troubled that he’d only been able to find that kind of connection once his identity had been removed from the equation. 

More often as of late, he found his attention wandering to her outside of the forums, and mentioning things she’d said in his everyday conversations. For instance, he’d found himself wondering aloud one day what she would make of his idea for tracking drones, startling the hell out of the junior scientist who’d been working at the bench across from him, and Trip had elbowed him more than once during the lunch when he’d gone on at length about her opinion on the level of field training science operatives needed. 

But it didn’t stop there. He also found himself wondering what, exactly, she looked like, not that physical appearance, or even age, was much of a barrier for him. In the past, the women he’d been attracted to had covered a wide range, what with his priority being whether he felt comfortable speaking to them and if they could carry on their fair share of the conversation. He figured that much was taken care of, given how quickly he and this woman exchanged messages and how often he found himself smiling at her responses, so he wondered about other, more trivial things. Like the way her mouth curved when she was pleased with something, and if he’d ever been lucky enough to put such an expression on her face. 

Eventually, once it was well past one in the morning, Fitz gave up hope of hearing from her. He signed out and put his computer into sleep mode so he could slip into bed. He didn’t have time to be distracted, he told himself; he had his presentation to prepare. Being distracted by a nameless, faceless someone could only ruin his chances of making a name for himself and finally being transferred out of The Ranch, anyhow. 

A few hours after Fitz went to bed, Jemma bounded out of her own and out to one of the many balconies that lined the Treehouse’s perch above the rainforest canopy. She still hadn’t discovered who was responsible for setting the living quarters up above the trees like this, but Jemma silently blessed them every day she got to watch the sun slowly light up the skies. As much as the rain forests fascinated her and provided endless opportunities for exploration and discovery, the thick tree cover, filtered light and still, humid air could be oppressive after a while. 

Here above was an entirely different world. 

It rained of course, heavily and often, and those were the days Jemma skipped her half hour on the balcony and took her coffee straight downstairs to her lab. Not that she could do that today. There was enough time to pack, and probably to look over her presentation materials once more, before catching her SHIELD transport out to Bogota and then onto a commercial flight north to Miami. Since Jemma was the only person from the Treehouse presenting this year, the supervisors hadn’t bothered with providing her private transportation all the way there and back. 

Jemma didn’t particularly mind. The staff at the Treehouse was limited at best, so getting to mingle with strangers was a rare treat she intended to enjoy. 

The hours ticked away, and Jemma was disappointed to find she still didn’t have any messages from her anonymous friend when she finally logged back into the forum. It had been almost two days, and nothing, but Jemma also hadn’t sent him anything. It was frustrating, being this blind. What if she was annoying him? Jemma sighed and scowled at the screen, catching her roommate’s attention. 

Bobbi sat up and peered over the back of the couch in their shared suite, eyeing the biochemist. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, Simmons,” she said immediately. As one of the few Specialists posted at the Treehouse and in charge of the mostly male security team, Bobbi’s common sense and practicality was a good balance for Jemma’s occasionally too analytical mindset. “Is it that engineer again? Just send him a message. You’re overthinking it.”

Eyeing her friend, the tall blonde climbed up from the couch and circled around to lean against the back of it. Jemma was friendly enough, but she didn’t form attachments easily - especially not to fuss over someone like she did with this anonymous guy. Every time Bobbi turned around, Jemma was on the forums, typing rapid-fire responses to his messages. And she mentioned him in conversation. A lot. Which was odd, given that Jemma didn’t even know his name. 

Jemma knew Bobbi was likely right, and said as much. “It’s just… This forum is supposed to be completely anonymous. Do I mention the conference? What if he’s attending too? He’ll recognize my project and then know who I am and will SHIELD be upset about that? I can’t afford to lose this job and I don’t want to be reassigned,” Jemma babbled out.

“Simmons!” Bobbi cut her off. “Just send him a message. SHIELD can’t expect to put a forum like that online and not expect its best minds to never figure out who anyone is.” 

That made a lot of sense, actually, and Jemma gave her roommate a tremulous smile as she clicked into a new message. 

_Hi! It’s been a busy few days. I’m heading to a conference for the next few days and will be mostly out of touch until I get back to base. Nervous about presenting, but excited too. Thanks again for all your help - the suggestion about the funnel is the only reason I made it this far! Hope you worked out the thing with the drones. I’m more than happy to take a look again if you think they’re still not collecting the right readings. Have a great week!_

Jemma reread it twice, critical of any potential flags for SHIELD. Even though this was the largest gathering point for the SciOps group each year, there was no guarantee he was going. Just saying she was presenting didn’t give away any identifying information. Thinking she was likely safe, Jemma clicked send and glanced at the clock. Just another half hour and she’d be on her way. Setting the engineer aside, she double checked her room, making sure she had everything she needed, before heading upstairs to the landing pad. 

Fitz had made a crucial mistake while packing his bag, one that he really should have known better than to commit: he opened his damn laptop and checked the forums. The grin that stretched his mouth when he saw the new message notification, and saw that it was from her, was wide and a bit goofy. The biochemist. Bringing his hand up rest across his mouth, he read and reread the message, trying to glean any information he could from it. He was so engrossed in going over her words that he didn’t sense the danger waiting for him. 

Whack. 

“Trip! Wha’ the hell was tha’?!”

Fitz whirled in his seat to face the taller man down, his irritation, both at being interrupted and his friend’s generally sunny disposition, plain for the world to see. The specialist just smiled behind his coffee mug, taking a long pull of the drink before he flopped down right next to the suitcase that had been left open on the bed. 

“That was your gray cardigan,” Trip retorted, setting down his drink on the bedside table and rearming himself with a balled-up pair of socks, “but it’s about to be your socks, too, if you don’t get your ass in gear. Get going, man. We have to be out of here in an hour.” 

Fitz scowled, and turned his attention back to the screen. Trip was right, naturally, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. “I know, I’ll be on time. Dinnae have much left anyway.”

“Fitz… your bag is empty.” His protest going unnoticed, Trip wandered up behind the engineer to read over his shoulder. It took him all of ten seconds to realize what had the younger man’s attention, and he clapped him on the back in response. “It’s her again, huh?” He’d watched the Scot chase himself round in circles for the past few weeks, hanging on every word of an invisible someone. A part of Trip found it cute, that Fitz was so hung up on someone he’d never met, but another part of him was worried, too. There could be a lot read into online exchanges that was never meant to be there in the first place. 

“Yeah, i’s her again,” Fitz replied, utterly distracted. “She says she’s presentin’ in the next few days- you think i’s the same conference?”

“I don’t know, man. Could be. But there are a lot of scientific conferences at any given time.” The hope in his tone was too much, and Trip found he couldn’t bear to bring him back down to earth with everyday concerns, like how she might not be as interested in Fitz as he was in her, or that she might not even be a woman, or that he was meant to be going to present his latest innovations in micro drone technology, not trying to hunt down a nameless, faceless SHIELD scientist. Trip turned to go, unable to watch his friend struggle with the decision, and tossed back over his shoulder, “Send her a message if you want, but hurry up. We’re wheels up in 54 minutes, and believe me, I have no problem hitting South Beach without you.”

That caught Fitz’ attention, and he tore his eyes from the screen just in time to watch Trip disappear around the doorframe. His eyes darted over to his still-open, mostly empty suitcase; he thought the specialist was joking about leaving without him, but he couldn’t be too sure. More than once in the months approaching this SciOps conference, Trip had expressed his anticipation of seeing palm trees in place of mountains. It hadn’t seemed like he was joking then. That decided him, and Fitz hurriedly typed back a message. 

_Hi yourself. No need to keep thanking me. I’m happy to help. I’ll be off for the next few days, too. I’ll be getting live feedback on the drones in the next few days, and once I’m back, I’d like to hear your take on the feedback I receive. Cheers!_

He scanned the message, wondering if he was being too informal, but hurriedly clicked send and shut down. Fitz kept going back and forth with himself whether he was foolish to hope she’d be in Miami. He had no idea who he was speaking to, for all he knew whoever it was could be completely unhinged, but he couldn’t give up the chance to meet her in person, either. He’d find out soon enough, he supposed; Fitz had certainly seen enough of her work to know it on sight. One glance through the conference’s program once he arrived should tell him everything he needed to know. 

Another glance at the clock sent Fitz flying away from his desk and over to his closet. He now had 40 minutes to pack, and he’d be damned if he missed his chance to meet his mystery woman because he hadn’t been on time to make the plane. 

Jemma’s flights, into Bogota and then into Miami, were uneventful. She spent the time with her headphones on, classical piano concertos - she had an affection for Rachmaninoff, thanks to her parents - tinkling through the earbuds. The music helped her focus on her project notes, organizing the last several months of work into a coherent presentation. Given the setbacks and numerous recalculations, Jemma decided to lump them into one area of her explanation of the experimentation process without going into extensive detail. If anyone was curious, they’d ask. 

She’d much rather focus on the successful route she’d found to her desired result, and centered the presentation on explaining the overarching project and demonstrating the chemical reaction via a computerized simulation. Given the eventual result was a gaseous neutralizing agent similar to surgical anesthetic, with paralytic properties, the last thing Jemma wanted was for a live demonstration to go awry. 

Once she was satisfied with that, Jemma turned to the preliminary conference materials in her email. There was a framework for the schedule and a list of presentations, but the specifics of each, like the timeslot and presenters wasn’t included. She wasn’t entirely surprised - schedules often changed last minute with travel delays, project interference and so on. The last time she’d come to a conference, someone had put the entire schedule on an app, so changes were made and updated on the fly. Hopefully the same thing would be true here, if there were complications. 

As long as her own presentation didn’t get moved around, at least. She was nervous enough as it was. Jemma’s presentations were never terrible, but given the reactions to her senior presentation with Leo Fitz back at the Academy… She always felt like she was never quite living up to expectation after that. This one was the first time she felt like she might have developed something of a similar caliber to that crystalline nucleation process. The irony of it being another project she’d collaborated on with an engineer… 

Jemma grimaced, remembering that project with Fitz. She’d been so hopeful going in, given how much they had in common, and then how well their thought processes dovetailed. But the Scot had been unpredictably moody and changeable, and Jemma had left the lab most days confused and saddened by his behavior. By the time they’d been done, Jemma had long since reached complete frustration with Fitz’ attitude and been ready to wash her hands of him. The few times when he’d made shy overtures of friendship had been totally overtaken by the times when he’d been gruff and rude and uncommunicative. 

The project had been such a success though, that SHIELD tried to make them permanent partners after graduation. Needless to say, neither of them had wanted any part of it. She’d been shipped off to the Treehouse shortly thereafter, to gleefully dig into the secrets of the Amazon rainforest. Fitz had gone somewhere called the Barn at first, and she’d tried to at least keep up with his work - that had been admittedly impressive all along - but lost track of him when he was transferred again later. 

For all she knew, he’d left SHIELD entirely. Fitz might have been an utter arsehole to her, but he was a bloody genius. Too much of one for her to not have heard rumors of his work, years later. 

Shrugging out of her thoughts, Jemma pulled a thick novel from her bag, intent on whiling away that last hour or so of her flight. 

Upon arriving in Miami and collecting her luggage, she called Bobbi to let the overprotective Specialist know she’d made it stateside without issue and glanced around the busy terminal. SHIELD was supposed to have sent someone to pick her up - likely one of the Ops agents assigned to run security - but she didn’t see anyone. None of the suited chauffeurs had a placard with her name, and there was no one she’d obviously place as an agent around. 

With a sigh, she stepped off to one side to dig into her email and see if she had any further details. 

Fitz quickly found, after landing in Miami, that he had been hasty in turning down Trip’s help. Still, it wasn’t until he dropped the case carrying his prototypes (he really needed to come up with a name before he presented) for the third time that he called out to the specialist. 

“Trip! Wait, will you? I-” Fitz looked up, meaning to fix his so-called friend with as withering a glare as he could manage, when he happened to look past him and blanched. All of his luggage, save the backpack he’d slung over his shoulders, hit the ground. There was no way in hell she was here. He paused for a moment, staring and trying to get his bearings, when he realized she could see him, too. And that his luggage had made an awfully loud crash. 

Trip had drawn closer, his expression clearly amused by the Scot’s struggles, and Fitz quickly moved to try to block himself from her view. “Did she see me?!” he hissed, frantically trying to gather his scattered belongings without leaving the safety of Trip’s shadow. 

“Did who see you?”

“Her!” He insisted, eyes flicking back to the pretty twentysomething standing to the side, scrolling through her phone. “Behind you at your 8, no, 11, fuck, behind you, to the side. On her phone, ponytail, pink top.” The words came out in a rush, and Fitz finally managed to gather his belongings and stand as Trip turned around to survey the indicated girl. Much to his dismay, the specialist let out a low, appreciative whistle. 

“She’s cute, Fitz. You know her?”

“Yeah, I know her,” Fitz grumbled, peeking out from behind Trip’s broad shoulder. “We were paired together, when I was at the Academy. I’ was a nightmare, I cannae believe Jemma bloody Simmons is here- Trip? Trip! Oh, wha’ the hell…”

The engineer had just enough time to duck behind a pillar and he watched his now-former friend approach his old rival. Fitz meant to keep his eye on the situation, silently praying that Trip wouldn’t offer her a ride, but just as he entered her personal space, Simmons looked up. And looked dead at him. Fitz registered her eyes go a bit wide in shock and he turned away, back pressed against the pillar and heart pounding, as he began imagining all of the ways he could make Trip pay for this later. 

It wasn’t possible. Or it shouldn’t have been. What were the odds that the young man Jemma had been thinking about on the plane would be here at the airport, likely on his way to the same conference? She’d recognize those bright blue eyes and shock of curly hair anywhere, even though Fitz was apparently keeping them shorter now than the messy mop he’d had at the Academy. He looked good, she reluctantly admitted.

Before she had a chance to think on it more, there was a tall, dark figure in front of her, wearing an utterly charming smile that had Jemma blinking in surprise - and a little wariness. “Um, hello.” 

“You look a little lost,” Trip said easily, shrugging and shifting to one side so he wasn’t blocking Jemma’s view of the rest of the terminal - and so he could keep an eye on what was going on. “You’re here for the SciOps conference, right? My roommate recognized you. Do you need some help?” He went to motion toward Fitz, but the Scottish engineer had dropped out of sight. “Ah. Fitz. He’s around here somewhere.” 

Jemma’s heart sank at the confirmation that Fitz was here. His roommate seemed… nice, though. “Oh. Well, yes. But I- well, I was told there’d be transportation arrangements made, but I didn’t get any additional details. How are we to get to the hotel, do you know?” She caught herself a moment later and made a face. “Where are my manners? My apologies - it’s been a long day. Jemma Simmons, biochemistry.” She reached her hand out, pleased when the man took it without question, shaking firmly without any nonsense of squeezing too tightly or limply, as though he might hurt her fragile female bones. 

“Antoine Triplett, Operations. Call me Trip,” he grinned. Trip liked her. She was cute and that accent was kind of sexy. Fitz had said working with her was a nightmare, but he also knew his roommate. The boy was awkward as hell on a good day and absolutely terrible with women. If things had been a nightmare, Trip would put money on Fitz being the cause of it. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Jemma Simmons being difficult to work with.

“There’s a shuttle bus to get to the hotel. Picks up outside Terminal B. The email just came out this morning,” Trip explained easily. It was a natural segue to offer to help her. “If you wait a second, I’ll find Fitz and we can walk you outside?” 

Jemma blushed at Trip’s tone and the way he grinned at her. She might be out of practice, but she knew when a man was flirting with her. And given he knew Fitz, Jemma could only imagine what he’d heard - so why was he being so nice? That made her more nervous than anything… And she definitely didn’t want to force herself into Fitz’ company. She never had figured out why he hated her, and if he still got reminded of their one project as often as she did, Jemma didn’t imagine Fitz’ opinion of her had improved much. 

Shaking her head, Jemma eased away from the wall, glancing up at the overhead signs. “I, ahh, no, thank you. I mean, thank you for the information - I didn’t see that email. Surely I can find Terminal B without much trouble, and you still need to find Fitz,” she rambled out awkwardly. “Good to meet you, and thank you. Again. Trip. Perhaps I’ll see you at the conference.” Perhaps, but Jemma wasn’t going to count on it. 

Trip stood back, letting Jemma move, his smile faltering. His instincts about people weren’t often wrong, but Jemma’s dismissal seemed somehow off. She was nervous, for sure, and it only made him want to dig in and see what was making her tick. Still, he wouldn’t force his attention or company on an unwilling lady. “As you wish,” he said, holding his hands up and taking a step back. 

Relieved by his easy acceptance - and reluctantly intrigued by the unexpected Princess Bride reference - Jemma glanced around again and gathered her things to head for Terminal B. 

Trip watched her go, unsurprised when Fitz appeared at his side with his own pile of belongings a moment later. 

“Happy now, are you?” The disgust he felt was evident, practically dripping from each uttered syllable. It had been odd, to say the least, to see Simmons again. She had been the first person he could remember actively wanting to be friends with, but each of his overtures had failed spectacularly. He had thought he’d put it all behind him, but watching the easy way Trip made conversation with her had frustrated Fitz. It simply wasn’t fair that the specialist was able to speak to her as though it were nothing, when he had had to work so hard at it, despite all they’d had in common. 

Trip raised an eyebrow at his friend and smirked, although not unkindly. “I am, actually. She seems nice. And you should have come over to say hello like a normal human being, instead of hiding behind inanimate objects. Reactions like that are the reason everyone in SHIELD thinks the Ranch is full of nutjobs.”

“No, bein’ surrounded by nothin’ but piles an’ piles of rock is why SHIELD thinks we’re full o’ nutters, no’ me.” Fitz adjusted his grip on his belongings, and satisfied he could manage, continued, “Did you really have t’ flirt with her? My nemesis?”

The side eye Trip gave his friend was a knee-jerk reaction, but to be fair, the younger man was being overdramatic. Which, given Fitz, wasn’t entirely surprising. Although, his response to the mild flirtation did pique his interest, and Trip suddenly began to think there’d been more to what had happened at the SciTech Academy than either of them would ever let on. He felt blessed; not even a full hour on the ground in Miami, and he already had something more interesting with which to entertain himself than simply watching video monitors for his security detail. 

“Maybe I did,” he retorted, hitching his duffle higher on his shoulder and leading the way out toward Terminal B. “I mean, if you get to spend your free time chasing down your scientific soulmate, why should I be denied the same opportunity? Fair’s fair, Fitz.” 

The engineer spluttered his disbelief, pausing as he processed Trip’s words. In truth, he had no intention of making a move on Jemma Simmons. The girl had seemed uncomfortable enough with the careful, rather innocent overture he’d just made; he certainly wouldn’t push it further than that. But, it was always fun to get Fitz riled, and he didn’t even bother to mask his grin when the engineer finally managed to catch up to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma didn’t know how often the shuttles were running, but she was hoping that this one would leave before Fitz and Trip got to Terminal B. Regardless of what Trip might think, if Fitz was still so upset with her that he’d hide rather than even see her, then Jemma didn’t want to force her presence on him. 

Luck wasn’t with her though, and she spotted the two men through the tinted bus windows, putting their bags and cases into the compartments underneath. They were talking, although Jemma obviously couldn’t hear their words, and she sucked in a breath when Trip said something to make Fitz laugh. She didn’t think she’d ever actually seen that - the Scot actually looked happy, expression open and bright and smiling, and it made her heart hurt. Still, it didn’t matter. That was over and done and in the past, and she had a presentation to handle, and just maybe, an online correspondent to meet. 

She slouched down into her seat toward the back of the bus when they climbed aboard, but they took seats up front. Once at the hotel, she lingered on the bus, and then went in the opposite direction - where Fitz and Trip looked to be checking into their room first, Jemma went toward the conference center to sign in and pick up her conference materials. 

An hour later, armed with schedules, a special presenter’s badge and maps of the hotel and conference center, Jemma made it to her room to unpack, and shortly after, take her laptop downstairs to the hotel restaurant to occupy her during a solitary dinner. 

The message on the forums from her friend was unexpected, bringing a bright grin to her face as she stared at the screen and hurriedly typed back. 

_I know, I know, I say thank you too much. Or so you’ve implied._

_Those drones are brilliant - I can’t imagine you not getting lots of good feedback about them, even if you did ignore my suggestion about the biometric possibilities - but I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you._

_Now that I’m here, I’m a bit terrified about my presentation, but I can’t back out now. Wish me luck?_

It had taken a bit of effort on his part, but Fitz forced himself to only watch Simmons from the corner of his eye as they checked in, instead of blatantly stare at her the way he had at the airport. A small voice, one he usually elected to ignore, chided him for being so immature, but he stood his ground. It was bad enough he’d bungled things so badly ten years ago. Now, all he wanted was to get through his presentation, get through the weekend, and get back to the Ranch with whatever dignity he could muster intact. 

Checked in, and all of their materials in tow, Fitz tailed Trip up to their room. It wasn’t bad, as far as hotel rooms went, decently high with a view of the water that was only partially obstructed, although the furniture was the same non-descript set that was in every hotel this chain operated across the country. 

Sprawled across his bed while Trip showered, Fitz held his phone above him as he flipped through his email and then his forum messages. 

The surprise of seeing Simmons had jarred him, bringing his excitement about being away for three whole days down to near non-existent levels, and was forgotten when he saw her message. Flipping onto his stomach, Fitz found himself blushing at his anonymous friend’s praise, and quickly typed back a response. 

_Good luck, not that you need it. I’ve read your proposal, remember, and trust me, you’ll be fantastic. Nothing to be nervous about in the least. And I told you, there wasn’t time for the biometrics, but it’s something to revisit in the future._

Fitz very much wanted to add in a line about possible future collaboration, a first for him, but resisted. He, like all of the other scientists on the forums, knew that SHIELD was always watching. He didn’t want to drive his friend underground because he carelessly suggested something that the higher ups would consider to be a breach of the established rules, even though that chafed against his independent nature. Pressing send, he set his phone aside and began leafing through the conference materials, hoping that something he found within the glossy sheets would catch his interest for more than two minutes at a time. 

Jemma lingered at the table when she was done with her dinner, since the restaurant wasn’t especially busy and was relatively quiet compared to the lobby visible through the glass. It seemed a lot of attendees were arriving late, given the number and diversity of the geeky lab types streaming in. 

As always, she was struck by the overwhelming number of men in attendance. Even though SHIELD was more progressive than most, women in the sciences were still very much in the minority. At least they were proactive about recruiting scientists and technical staff from other areas than the US and Asia, too, or Jemma might never have been noticed in the first place. Sometimes she considered where she might be if she hadn’t joined SHIELD, and the options weren’t appealing, especially given her age when she’d gone to the Academy. 

She was about to shut her computer down to focus on the conference material and select the sessions to attend when she noticed the messaging icon on the forums had lit up again. Jemma grinned at the screen and clicked into the message, immediately clicking in to send a reply. The fast response gave her hope that he was here. 

_You may still want to mention it in your own presentation then. Having the additional security as well as the functionality connected to biometrics is something that a lot of people may be interested in. A lot of possibilities there, I think, especially in search and rescue or tracking efforts. Just a thought. :)_

_And thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m spending some time figuring out my schedule for this conference and then crashing. Flights wear me out these days, and nerves and adrenaline can only get me so far. Sleep, sweet sleep… Another hour and it shall be mine._

_Fingers crossed that I have a comfortable bed and peace and quiet for the night._

She clicked send and shut the laptop, refusing to let herself focus on hoping he’d write back again quickly.

The conference had thoughtfully provided a blank schedule with the session blocks marked off, for attendees to sketch in what presentations they wanted to see and when. Jemma quickly found her own presentation on the schedule and blocked it off, along with a brief space of time before hand, and another session after, hoping she’d be stopped for questions when she completed her presentation. 

Beyond that… She flipped through the catalog, skimming categories and abstracts, marking anything that interested her for further review and addition to her plan. It wasn’t until she reached the technical division’s listings that her heart stopped. 

Drone Technology, Remote Surveillance and Forensics: The Inhuman Touch  
Presenter: Leopold Fitz, The Ranch, Wyoming, USA

Hurriedly, she went through the rest of the catalog, looking for any other reference to drones, but there was nothing. It might be possible that her forum-friend was simply working on something similar, but the odds were astronomical, especially given his comment about getting feedback this week. Stunned and dismayed, Jemma sat back in her chair. 

Fitz was her anonymous crush. Of all people in the world… It didn’t even make any sense. They were nothing alike. Fitz was brusque, rude and uncommunicative. He’d been so awkward and quiet that Jemma had given up on ever drawing him out. Forum friend was helpful and forthcoming, even a little sweet sometimes. The only thing they had in common was their intelligence, but Fitz was one of the few people Jemma would call a true genius. Her forum friend was smart - brilliant even - but she hadn’t seen evidence of genius. Then again, it was difficult to witness the type of leaps in logic Fitz had made over a computer. 

Jemma stared at the entry again and hurriedly shoved everything into her bag before marching over to the bar. Forget sleep. She needed a drink. 

Coming to the presentation catalog, Fitz toyed with the edges, two ideas tugging at him. First, he wondered who she, the woman he’d been carrying on with on the forums, was. As eager as he was to dive in and find her (and he had no doubt he would, given all he knew about her work), there was something to be said of the mystery behind it. Part of him worried that without the intrigue, he’d lose interest. That the reality wouldn’t live up to the fantasy Fitz had built up in his mind. 

The second was Simmons, and what she was presenting. As strained as their forced partnership had been at SciTech, he had to admit that she was easily one of the most brilliant scientists he’d ever met. It was part of why he’d been so eager to impress her, and why it had cut so deeply when she’d made it plain that his friendship didn’t interest her. It was like picking at a scab, that much Fitz realized, but he couldn’t help it. He might have resisted following her work in the intervening years, but with her right beneath his nose, the temptation was simply too much. He was curious. 

Eschewing the blank schedule for the time being, Fitz dove into the selections, fingertips skimming over the pages as he quickly searched for mentions of either dendrotoxins or Jemma Simmons, and he felt his stomach drop out on him when he found them, both in the same entry. 

Jemma bloody Simmons was presenting on non-lethal weapons alternatives. His anonymous friend had been looking to delay the mixing of two compounds that, from what Fitz understood, could freeze an attacker in their tracks. Heart racing, edging on near panic, he looked over all of the selections again. There was one other presenter dealing with dendrotoxins, but the name was decidedly male. Fitz supposed that there was an outside chance that he’d been chatting with a man, but given that the uses outlined in the abstract where nowhere near what he’d discussed with the woman on the forums, he highly doubted it. 

Jemma Simmons was the woman he’d been doting on. Shite. 

Fitz flailed across the cluttered mattress, searching for his phone. He missed on the first try, but eventually his fingers wrapped around the device, and he quickly unlocked it. He forced himself to go into the forums, and then into his messages. His gut gave a sickening lurch when he saw there was a new message, and unsure of what he’d find there, he forced himself to click into it. 

The feeling eased as he read her missive. She - Simmons, he reminded himself - didn’t seem to realize who he was, at least. If she had, he doubted her message would have been so cordial, and his heart twisted a bit at her mention of tracking applications. It was exactly what he’d wanted to talk to her about, and there was something bittersweet about it being Simmons anticipating what he’d been thinking. Perhaps if they’d managed that trick in person, they’d still be partners today. 

Just as he was about to lose himself in thought, the water in the bathroom shut off, startling Fitz. He couldn’t stand to see Trip, not now, not after this let down. Frantic, he flew off the mattress and shoved his feet into a pair of sandals he’d left at the foot of the bed, and gathered up his phone, the presentation schedule, and his key. He turned, intent on getting to the door, only to nearly run head-long into his roommate’s broad, solid chest. 

“Fitz! Relax! What the hell-”

“Sorry, I need- there’s a- I’ll be righ’ back.” 

Fitz squeezed past his friend and slipped out the door just as the specialist called, “Wait! What about dinner?” but it was too late. He was already half way down the hall, his feet carrying him mindlessly toward the lifts. He remembered on the way in seeing that there was a second deck on the roof, and decided to go there. It should be deserted at this time of night, given that there was no pool up there and it was far too late to be sunbathing, perfect for someone who desperately wanted to be alone with his thoughts. 

He’d been writing to Jemma Simmons all along. He’d been slowly, steadily, falling for a woman who’d hated him since he was 17. Dismayed, and uncertain of what he should do, Fitz began to pace along the roof, hoping he would find his answers in the multitude of bright neon bulbs that made up Miami’s skyline. 

After an hour and a few drinks, Jemma retreated to her room, laptop bag tucked in tightly at her side. 

Fitz. Fitz.

It seemed impossible, but all evidence indicated otherwise. 

Jemma cursed the anonymity on the forums, unsure if she’d rather have not gotten into this predicament, or dismayed that she may have entirely misjudged someone for so long. They’d been so damned young, though, barely 17 and under intense pressure to succeed. 

She dropped her bag on a chair and sprawled out on the bed without even crawling under the covers before eventually falling into a restless sleep. 

The next morning, Jemma overslept and had to scramble to get downstairs to breakfast. Even though she was dressed appropriately, she hadn’t showered and just felt grubby. Thankfully she had time - if she ate quickly - to go back up to her room and clean up properly before the first session. Of course, as she was coming out of line she spotted Fitz - god, did he have radar or something? - sitting at a table nearby. 

His profile was to her, and Jemma took a moment now to watch him, unobserved. Fitz had grown up, much as she had, maturing, and it suited him. The shorter hair and hint of scruff, along with the slightly more relaxed look - he’d foregone a tie, leaving the collar of his button down loose - spoke to a more confident and less uptight engineer. The Jemma of a decade ago had more than a little crush on Fitz even before she’d officially met him. He’d been so cute with his curls and sweaters and sneakers… 

Fitz shifted as though he might turn and Jemma startled out of her reverie, only to realize that his friend was watching her closely, dark eyes studying her even as a grin spread over his face. “Good morning, Simmons! Join us?” Trip offered, but Jemma quickly shook her head, her cheeks turning pink as she hurried over to an empty table. 

It was disconcerting then, when she glanced up a short while later to catch Fitz staring at her, but he looked away quickly and her heart sank again. Did he know yet? That she was his anonymous friend? Was he disappointed? Jemma wasn’t as disappointed as she was sad and confused - and a bit hurt. The Fitz she knew from the forums was so very unlike the Fitz she’d known in the lab, so the problem must have been with her. And she had no idea what she’d done to make him hate her so. 

Still, Jemma wasn’t ready to let go. He seemed to like her well enough on the forums. Maybe they could get past whatever it was that had soured their partnership in the past. Jemma pulled open her laptop, intending to click into the forums… but apparently the internet connection was too taxed in the hotel, because the browser simply sat, working, but not loading the site. 

After a few minutes and finishing her breakfast, Jemma gave up with a sigh. She didn’t know what else she’d say to him now, anyway. 

Fitz tried his damnedest, he really, truly did, to will himself through the restaurant floor when Trip called out to Simmons. It was bad enough that he’d spent most of his evening pacing himself out of a blind panic, and his friend was going to put the cause of his distress right next to him. As soon as he realized that it wouldn’t work, he elected to fix his eyes on the mug of coffee, and despite it being far too weak for his liking, he took a sip. He needed something, anything, to keep himself distracted on the off chance Simmons decided to come over and sit with them. 

When Trip sat back, looking decidedly disappointed, Fitz felt himself relax. She must have decided to take her breakfast elsewhere, and really, it was for the best. At least this way he could decide which presentations he wanted to see today, without the distraction of having her next to him. That had been part of the problem, too, all those years ago. He’d spent so much time just staring at her, trying to piece together what to say without sounding like a fool…

“So, what happened?” Trip blurted, interrupting Fitz’ train of thought. “I mean, you don’t avoid someone like that unless there was some unbelievably good sex and then an awful break up.”

His reaction wasn’t pretty, coffee splattering across his scrambled eggs and toast as he struggled to breathe. Fixing Trip with a glare as he mopped up the mess, he muttered, “Nothin’ happened. No’ like that, at leas’. I mean, Chris’, have you looked at her? She was jus’ as pretty then. Girls like that, even when they like science, dinnae look at me like that.” The statement, as factual as it was, deflated him just a bit, and Fitz found that his appetite had disappeared on him. “They paired us together at SciTech, figurin’ that the two young geniuses from the UK would be well suited t’ workin’ together. That was a rather large misconception, an’ it blew up.”

He left out the bit about how badly he’d wanted to impress her, to be her friend. Still, despite feeling pathetic, Fitz couldn’t help himself. He glanced up and over in the direction in which he’d seen Jemma go, easily catching sight of her. Her hair was up again, this time in a hastily done bun that left a few tendrils of hair floating against her cheek. She was every bit as pretty as she’d been at 17, although Fitz had to admit he liked this slightly older version. Her face had grown a bit more angular, losing the cherubic fullness of youth, but he could still see laugh lines, and Fitz fondly remembered the feeling of Jemma Simmons smiling at him. It hadn’t happened often, but each time had felt a bit like stepping into sunshine. 

Almost as if she could sense his thoughts, she glanced up from her laptop at that moment, an uncertain smile tugging at her lips. Fitz flushed and quickly spun back to face Trip. The raised eyebrow and decidedly unamused expression on the older man’s causing him to slump in his seat, feeling chastised despite the fact that his friend never spoke. 

As with most things that stymied him, Fitz pushed all thoughts of Jemma to the side, content to deal with them later, if at all. 

~*~

After breakfast, Trip went his own way muttering something about seeing the weapons demonstration, and Fitz was content to see him go. For as much as he was called on to design weapons and weapons modifications, the Scot didn’t much care for seeing his creations in action. Instead he spent his morning standing in the back of several presentations he’d thought might be interesting, bouncing between them as suited his interested. 

A few times he’d spotted Simmons, always at a distance, and he’d allowed himself a few moments just to watch her. The girl he remembered from the Academy had always gotten on well enough with those around her, or so it seemed, given that she was forever holding a conversation, but this woman was far quieter. Fitz also noticed that she wasn’t with anyone; yes, she sat next to several other scientists, smiled and exchanged pleasantries, but didn’t pay any of them more mind than the others. It was odd, he thought, for someone who’d been so talkative as a teen, but perhaps that was just one of those things that had changed as she’d grown older as well. 

During lunch, his usually klutzy self had reemerged, spilling sauce down his front. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had a few minutes where, if he moved quickly enough, he could run back to his room and change into something more presentable. He reached the elevator bank just as the door to a lift began slipping shut. 

“Hold the lift!” he called, forcing himself into a sprint for the last few feet and sticking his arm in between the gleaming doors. Fortunately for Fitz, his arm wasn’t taken off just below the elbow, and he was able to scoot into the tiny space, a sheepish smile already on his face. “Thanks,” he began, “that was-” Fitz froze, realizing who he was in the elevator with. “Close.”

Feeling the blood rush into his cheeks, he directed his eyes downward and tucked himself into the corner of the lift furthest from her. To his credit, he did manage a quick nod and a quiet,”Hi,” before he shut down completely. It figured, just his luck, that he wound up stuck in the same elevator car as Jemma Simmons. And with balsamic glaze down his front no less. It was official. Fate hated him. 

Jemma was quite pleased with the conference. She’d seen three very interesting and thought provoking presentations that morning, and gotten contact information for one of the scientists - Jemma thought she might have something back at the Treehouse that would work to solve an issue blocking further developments on his project. 

She kept seeing Fitz between sessions, and despite everything Jemma was finding she was still attracted to him. It wasn’t even fair, she thought to herself, for Fitz to be so close to her personal physical ideal. Jemma had spent some time at the Academy drooling over the Operations agents, who were more the general ideal of masculine perfection, but had later come to discover that while that was nice, she preferred her men less physically intimidating and more mentally stimulating. 

Not to say that most of the Ops agents weren’t intelligent - her current roommate, Bobbi, was a sterling example - but it was a different type of smart. Jemma wanted to be able to toss an idea into the air and have the other person catch, spin it and rocket it back to her with an improvement or adjustment. Ops agents took it and were off onto applications when Jemma wasn’t even sure it was a good idea yet. 

Fitz though… With those blue eyes and curls and that low, slightly rasped brogue... It still made her shiver, and that wasn’t even when she was thinking how it’d sound in her bed with her nipping at that oh-so-very-tempting cord in his neck. With the way he’d left his collar unbuttoned today, Jemma had been treated to the sight of it more than once and her imagination had done wonders with just that small stretch of skin. 

If she thought she could talk to him and get the Fitz she’d slowly come to know on the forums and not the one who’d rejected everything about her at the Academy, Jemma would have pulled him aside to talk at the first opportunity. Would have taken Trip’s invitation that morning, even. But Jemma knew that wouldn’t be the case and it made her sad, too, every time she saw him. No matter how much she was attracted to him, and on so many levels, Fitz hated her. He’d never want her back and she had to accept that. Sooner than later. 

Even though she sat alone at lunch, being in the crowded conference center all morning had worn her down a bit, and Jemma was ready for a break. One that included quiet and solitude and a cool, dark room. When Fitz darted onto the elevator with her, a dark stain down the front of his shirt, Jemma pressed further into her corner. He’d made it very clear yesterday at the airport that he still didn’t even want to see her - but then he spoke and Jemma’s traitorous heart went pattering all over, even as her cheeks pinkened. 

“Hi, Fitz,” she said shyly. “Are- are you enjoying the conference?” 

He had just been congratulating himself on managing that one tiny greeting without tripping over it, relaxing into the idea that surely Jemma wouldn’t expect him to make conversation for the short ride up to their rooms, when her voice, barely more than a whisper but the same sweet lilt he remembered, broke into the quiet. Reacting without thinking, Fitz lifted his head to look at her, and found himself dumbstruck for a moment, just staring. 

This was as close as he’d been to Jemma Simmons in years, and his reaction was the same now as it had been then. His heart began racing, his eyes darting across her as his brain desperately tried to come up with something sufficiently clever to say. Something that would impress the pretty girl with the bright hazel eyes and lightning quick mind. 

Knowing he was taking far too long to answer such a simple question, Fitz gave himself a shake. I’ve been talking to her for ages now, he reminded himself. True, it was anonymously, but it was still him. And her. He could do this. Feeling self-conscious of the stain on his chest, he fidgeted with his jacket, trying to cover it the best he could, and answered. 

“I am,” he murmured, trying to match her quiet tone. “The mornin’ presentations I wen’ to were interestin’, at leas’.” He was tempted to stop there, just those few words alone feeling like a monumental effort to get out, but forced himself to continue. What sounded suspiciously like Trip’s voice rang out in his ear, reminding him that conversation was supposed to be two-ways, not just him rambling on about himself. “Wha’ about yourself? Seen anythin’ good?”

Fitz’ fidgeting drew her attention to his hands, and Jemma blushed before firmly setting her gaze up on his face. He’d actually replied without any hint of an attitude, almost sounding enthusiastic under his quiet tone, and despite herself Jemma’s face lit up with pleasure. “I’ve been to three so far, and I’ve been impressed. It’s always wonderful to see the different things people are working on. Not always things that I’d want to look into personally, but definitely worthwhile.” 

The elevator door dinged as the car came to a stop, and Jemma blinked up at the floor number on the display, disappointed that even this brief exchange had to be cut short. “Oh! This is my floor. I- Perhaps we could talk more later? At dinner?” she said, biting at her lower lip. Jemma stepped out, holding the door open with one hand while she waited - hopefully - for his response. 

She had begun smiling when she answered, and Fitz was reminded, yet again, of the warmth that could take over one when Jemma smiled at them. He was losing himself in the sensation, content to drift along while she spoke to him, when the elevator interrupted, deflating him nearly instantaneously. He was preparing to resign himself to just that brief contact with her, when she did the unexpected and invited him to dinner. 

Fitz gawked at her a bit, uncertain that he’d even heard her extend the invitation. The only confirmation he received was her expression, and he watched it fall from hopeful anticipation to nervous disappointment before he could force himself into speaking. 

“Dinner!” he began, tone overly excited as he lurched forward to help her keep the door open. The action was needless, but it brought him closer to her, which was justification enough. “Dinner sounds good.” Fitz brought his tone back into a range that at least resembled “normal,” and even managed to give her a small smile. “I’ll find you after the afternoon sessions, yeah? Maybe we can compare notes?”

That was the last he managed to get out before Jemma stepped back, giving him one last glimpse of her before he had to allow the door to shut. The ride up to his own floor was short, but it was enough time for Fitz to allow his mind to wander, picking and poking at the idea that Jemma Simmons had extended a dinner invitation to him. It likely meant absolutely nothing, but the teenage crush he’d nursed for her for ages wouldn’t let him write it off merely as a meal between colleagues. No, that wee bastard was intent on reminding Fitz of all the ways he’d bungled speaking to her in the past, and by the time he reached his door and let himself in, he had no idea how he’d make it through the afternoon sessions. 

Let alone a dinner with Jemma. 

Feeling utterly deflated, having run the gamut of emotional highs and lows, Fitz stripped down to his undershirt, and leaving his jacket and stained button down on his bed, slinked out to the small balcony. There he sank into one of the cheap plastic deck chairs and watched their sliver of ocean, wondering just what, exactly, he’d gotten himself into. 

Jemma watched his expression shift through several iterations, unable to read any of them, and the hope that had risen when he spoke to her drained out through her feet when he didn’t respond to her invitation. He seemed to realize the same thing though, and stepped forward, suddenly looking excited in a way she’d never seen from him before. 

She nodded hurriedly when the elevator made a noise and the doors started closing anyway, separating them again. Staring at them for a moment, Jemma pursed her lips, possibly even more confused now, and returned to her room. What in the hell was that, Jemma Simmons? She chided herself, but at the same time… She was going to have dinner with Fitz. And likely Trip, since they’d been together for all the meals so far. 

The hotel room was blissfully cool and dark and quiet and Jemma gratefully crawled across the bed to sprawl out, starfished across the mattress. She didn’t even have anything particularly special to wear to dinner. This hadn’t even been a possibility before; Jemma had brought clothes intended for a professional venue, except her outfit for her presentation tomorrow, and the cocktail dress for the formal dinner and party tomorrow night. Besides - it was only dinner and Fitz had hesitated a bit long before accepting the invitation. 

Jemma sighed, worried that she’d misread the entire situation. Maybe he’d only replied to be polite. Or something. 

It took her some time to settle, but she sneaked in a short nap before heading down for the afternoon sessions - and the eventual dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

At dinner time, Jemma waited nervously in the hall outside the banquet room, a stack of conference materials clutched to her chest. She spotted Trip first, but there was no sign of Fitz and she flagged the specialist down. “Trip?” Jemma greeted him hesitantly. “Um, hi. I don’t suppose you know where Fitz is? I’d sort of invited him to have dinner with me earlier.” 

Fitz watched from a distance as Jemma flagged down Trip, stepping in near to him and smiling as they spoke. A part of him had wondered, as he mindlessly sat through his afternoon sessions, whether or not she had figured it out, that he was the friend she’d made online, and that was why she’d asked him to meet her at dinner. That left him with a whole new pile of concerns, but what loomed largest in his mind was the fear of Jemma’s disappointment in having been speaking to him all this time. Surely he’d be a disappointing revelation in comparison to whatever it was she’d dreamed up. 

He waited another beat, fingers flexing around the brochures he’d managed to grab that afternoon as he watched Trip smile down at Jemma. Trip, with that wide, winning smile that made women (and a few share of men) swoon with ease. Trip, who from what Fitz could recall from their Academy days, fit the type of man Jemma seemed most intent on pursuing. 

Fitz wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to the elevators so he could take solace in his room, but forced himself to stand firm. He’d told Jemma he would meet her for dinner, and if he was nothing else, he was a man of his word. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he strode over to where they stood talking. 

“Hi, sorry ‘m late.” The words were rushed, darting into the middle of their conversation, heedless of interrupting. “Should we try t’ grab a table?”

If Jemma hadn’t been so caught up on Fitz, she might have gone for Trip and that megawatt smile, but as it was, she only melted a little at the charm he turned on her. 

“He may have mentioned that,” Trip grinned down at her, pleased by the development between the two scientists. “I’m almost tempted to ask if you dosed him with something, given how he hid when he saw you yesterday. He’s always been nervous around people, but I’ve never seen him this flustered over a woman. You must have some history, hm?” 

Jemma’s cheeks went pink. “Ahh. Well, there’s a bit of history, yes, but likely not what you’re thinking. We were lab partners for a while during the Academy and just after, that’s all.” She wasn’t going to give away more than that, not knowing exactly what Fitz may have said to his friend about her. And that was the truth, as far as anyone else knew, too. She hadn’t confided her feelings about Fitz to anyone then, and even now only Bobbi and one other female friend knew. 

Trip quirked an eyebrow, silently calling her out for the misleading answer and Jemma nearly sighed. Damned Operations agents. She wasn’t a great liar to start with and they were trained in seeing through such things. “It’s complicated, okay?” Jemma finally said quietly. “We’re both smart - we’ll figure it out.” 

Fitz interrupted them then, before Trip could reply, and Jemma eyed him worriedly. He seemed frazzled now, nervous and fidgety - and unable to meet her eyes, unlike that brief moment on the elevator. Her heart sank a bit, wondering if he was having second thoughts about dinner, and she made an impulsive decision to adjust the plan a bit. “Actually, I was thinking we could go eat in the hotel restaurant? Honestly, the food is much better than the catered stuff here, and it’s a lot quieter. Trip, you’re welcome to come along, if you like. I’m treating.” 

Fitz felt his heart sink a bit further in his chest when she extended the invitation to Trip, and silently kicked himself for not going back to his room when he’d first had the impulse. Sure, he might have been the jackass that skipped out on a meal with a colleague, but at least he wouldn’t have had to watch her moon over his friend. Yet, he found himself nodding and trailing after her, allowing Jemma to lead them into the hotel’s restaurant. 

They settled quickly, Fitz somehow ending up in the seat directly across from Jemma, and he risked meeting her eyes and giving her a small smile before burying his attention in his menu. He tried to observe her without being seen, stealing glances of her over the top edge of his menu as she and Trip made small talk. He paused in his perusal just long enough to order a scotch and pork chops, and once he handed his menu off to the waiter, promptly turned his attention to the conference materials. 

That was, until he felt Trip kick him sharply beneath the table. 

“Wha’ the hell was tha’ for?” Fitz demanded, glaring at his friend and reaching down to rub his shin. 

“You were asked a question,” Trip replied, tone still as light as ever, and nodded toward Jemma. 

Fitz looked toward her. Her hazel eyes were downcast, seemingly embarrassed at watching their interaction, and her fingers fiddled with the stem of her water glass. The Scot’s own cheeks went red as he blushed, feeling flustered at having been called out on his bad behavior. 

“‘M sorry, Simmons. Wha’ were you sayin’?”

Thank goodness she’d asked Trip along, was all Jemma could think as they looked over their menus and eventually placed orders for appetizers and then dinners. Fitz was hiding behind his menu and then his conference materials, clearly uncomfortable and entirely uncommunicative. She should have known that Trip would notice her growing upset, although she didn’t expect him to take matters into his own hands, even on the third time Fitz blatantly ignored a direct question. 

Embarrassed when she realized Trip had kicked Fitz on her behalf, Jemma ducked her head. “I saw your abstract on the conference schedule and was curious. The Ranch? I’ve never even heard of it. I was hoping you could tell me a bit more... That’s all.” Sheepish and reticent, she shrugged as it it wasn’t a big deal, but of course it was. Fitz was behaving just like he had at the Academy, as if he had absolutely no interest in her or the conversation at all. 

At the mention of his abstract, Fitz felt his entire body go tense, waiting for her to call him out as being her forum contact and bracing for his inevitable embarrassment. Just his luck, she’d do it in front of Trip, too. When her question wound up being about The Ranch, and not his online extracurricular activities, his shoulders dropped a bit in relief. Work. He could talk about work. 

“The Ranch is jus’ The Ranch,” he began, fingers toying with his napkin on the table before him as he spoke. It seemed the only way he could maintain any kind of conversation with her was if his hands were occupied. “I’s… i’s remote. Mountainous. Mostly, we work with the fleet. Planes and trucks and the like. ‘M a glorified mechanic, really,” he concluded, grinning at Trip and then Jemma as he rambled on. “But, mos’ mechanics dinnae get to create the modifications I get to play with. Tha’s always fun.” 

Finally giving up his grip on his napkin in favor of reaching for his water glass, Fitz took a gulp and held Jemma’s gaze. “Wha’ about you? I bet there’s all kinds o’ stuff for you to play with a’ The Treehouse.” 

Jemma’s brows drew together at his description. SHIELD had Fitz - Fitz - working as a mechanic? It didn’t even make sense to her. Why have an engineer who was that bloody brilliant stuck in some backwoods location working on cars? She didn’t want to ask for details about his project - Jemma was wary of giving away that she already knew all about it, if he hadn’t figured out who she was yet - but she just had to know. “But your presentation is about drone technology? How does that fit into working on the fleet? Which seems to be a waste of your skills, by the way, unless you’re downplaying what you really do there.” 

She hesitated at Fitz’ mention of the Treehouse, knowing it meant he’d seen her abstract as well. “Well, it’s the Treehouse. The Amazon rainforest is one of the last unexplored places on earth, so there’s a wealth of opportunities for research and development.” 

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their drinks, and Fitz nodded his thanks as he was handed his scotch. He took a long sip, using it as cover as he debated just how he wanted to play his hand. He was tempted to begin dropping hints about their projects, just to see, but decided against it. If she really didn’t know she’d been talking to him, did he really want to ruin that? 

“The drones… they’re more like a pe’ projec’, really. Jus’ somethin’ I was tinkerin’ with one day between routine maintenance checks. Then I started thinkin’ about field applications, and the res’ is history.” Fitz shrugged, purposefully downplaying the personal significance of the project. In a lot of ways, he was hoping the drones would be his ticket out of Wyoming. “And ‘m sure the Treehouse is a wonderful opportunity. The catalog said you’re workin’ with dendrotoxins and th’ like?”

Jemma blinked at the question. Had she ever mentioned to her forum friend how she got started on her project so long ago? After thinking a moment, she realized that she probably hadn’t. Jemma had been far enough along in her research when she posted it on the forums that the origins hadn’t come up. “Yes. My roommate is in Operations. I overheard her and a bunch of the security team talking one night - war stories, of sorts - and noticed how often they mentioned having to use lethal force to bring someone down because of lack of options.” 

She took a sip of her wine, savoring the taste before returning her attention to Fitz - and to Trip, giving him a quiet smile as a thank you for drawing Fitz into the conversation. “Turns out there’s a plant that grows along the Amazon that when crushed emits a chemical that can temporarily paralyze a reasonably sized living creature - it kills anything too small. It worked out all the way around. The security team at the Treehouse has been testing my compound on native predators, and it’s worked wonderfully.” 

“I do wish I had more time to work on pet projects, though,” she admitted, her mind working through what Fitz had mentioned and what he hadn’t. It seemed that maybe he didn’t realize she was his anonymous correspondent. Or if he did, he wanted to mention it even less than she did. 

“The only reason ‘m excited t’ work on the drones is because they can be applied t’ something useful,” Fitz replied, responding to her comment about pet projects. “Which, I wonder…” He set his glass aside and leaned in, his mind beginning to pick at ideas he recalled from her project, and trying not to slip up or repeat anything he might have already mentioned on the forums. “How exactly did you decide to transmit the toxin?”

He licked his lips, mind still racing, and rushed to explain where he was going. “‘M askin’ because I wonder if there couldnae be an entire line o’ weapons alternatives… jus’ think about i’. Pistols an’ the like for takin’ down high priority or non-lethal targets.” 

Trip had been following the conversation quietly, and dropped a comment in. “Fitz has a point. Depending on the delivery mechanism, this could be really useful. How is the security team using it now?” He shifted in his chair to face Jemma, stunned that this young woman was coming up with the sort of things that Operations would love to get their hands on. He’d been in the exact situation he described before - more than once, even - and lost a high value target because it was either shoot to kill or let the person get away. 

Jemma glanced over at him and grinned. “Bobbi said something similar. Right now we’re using a remote detonated grenade. It’s a liquid base, the remote allows it to mix with a catalyzing agent. That forms a gas, and the resulting pressure builds up until it explodes the grenade. It’s a long explanation, but it happens within 10 seconds of pressing the button. It is theoretically possible to use the liquid base alone, but it would take a better mind than mine to develop a means of delivering it from a gun. The round would have to be strong enough to stand up to being fired, but delicate enough to break apart on impact to release the liquid.” 

The conversation carried on between Trip and Jemma for several minutes after that, discussing applications and the possibilities of having non-lethal weaponry easily at hand during field operations. 

Fitz watched as Trip and Jemma went back and forth, his mind picking away at what she’d said. A way to deliver the compound from a single bullet, and a casing that could both withstand being fired, but would break apart on impact to deliver its payload. He was entirely unaware of the frown decorating his face as he finished his drink and signaled for another. 

The drink came, but try as he might to use it to distract himself from the talk going on around him, Fitz couldn’t concentrate. His fingers were itching to dive into his pocket and retrieve his phone to search for his notes on an alloy they’d been testing in the labs at the Ranch as of late. Granted, the notes he kept on there were incomplete, but at least they’d be something he could use to jar some new ideas. 

Fitz tried, he really, truly did, to wait out dinner, but his overactive brain simply wouldn’t allow for it. Without waiting for a lull in conversation, or really even their acknowledgement, Fitz took his napkin from his lap, laid it on the table and pushed his chair back. “‘Cuse me,” he murmured, quickly standing and gathering his things, “there’s somethin’ I need t’ do…”

Thoroughly distracted by the idea of a bullet that could theoretically deliver Simmons’ dendrotoxin, Fitz gathered his things and made his way up to the room he shared with Trip. Once the door latched behind him, he tugged off his jacket, tossed it onto the bed, and rolled up his sleeves. The desk in the room was tiny, but it would do for now, and he quickly set about getting out his laptop and pulling up all of his lab notes from the past six months, desperate to find a way to make the idea a reality. 

Jemma was so startled by Fitz’ sudden departure that he was already out of earshot before she found her voice, and Trip seemed shocked as well. Everything had seemed to be going fine, but clearly it wasn’t, and once again Jemma felt the deep stab of pain at being rejected without even knowing what she’d done wrong. Her eyes filled, the hazel glossed and faintly reddened, and Jemma swiped at them as she glanced over at Trip. “I’m sorry, Trip. I- oh, this is awkward. I shouldn’t have even-” 

“Jemma, don’t,” Trip said easily. “Fitz is difficult on a good day. I know there’s something between you, even if I don’t know what - but I think you two really need to sit down and talk it out.” He sat back in his chair, looking at her expectantly. 

“He did this to me then, too,” Jemma blurted out, burying her face in her hands as a few tears spilled over. “Bobbi kept saying it’s not me, but I can’t help but feel like- Oh, it doesn’t even matter. I was stupid for trying. Just because he’s different on the forums doesn’t mean anything. He didn’t know it was me he was talking to.” 

“Wait. You’re the girl he’s been talking to all this time?” Suddenly Fitz’ departure last night made so much more sense. He must have figured it out while Trip was in the shower and had no idea how to deal with it. “Did you know?” 

“Not until last night,” Jemma said, shaking her head and lifting her eyes to meet Trip’s stare. “I had no clue.” Blinking away more tears, Jemma flagged their waitress down and asked her to close out the check, giving her room number and telling her to charge it to the account. “I- I need some air. Have a good night, Trip.” 

A little while later, Trip was settled into a chair in a quiet corner of the hotel lobby, tapping a text message into his phone. Operations was a small world once you got to a certain level, and there weren’t that many people in it named Bobbi. Taking a chance that maybe some other history could be overwritten tonight, he stared at his text for a long moment before pressing send. 

Bobbi [22:13]: I think I met your roommate - Jemma Simmons  
Bobbi [22:14]: What can you tell me about her?

Several thousand miles away, Bobbi grabbed her buzzing phone and stared at the messages. She was half-tempted to tell Antoine Triplett to fuck off, but he was simply too nice of a guy to be that bitchy to. It wasn’t his fault he’d had the misfortune to meet her so soon after she’d gotten burned by her ex-husband. Still… Bobbi typed out messages rapid fire, one right after the other.

Trip [22:14]: Don’t even think about it  
Trip [22:15]: She’s way too good for you  
Trip [22:15]: I mean it, Trip  
Trip [22:15]: She’s a doll  
Trip [22:15]: And I will hunt you down and kick your ass

Trip chuckled as the messages rolled in quickly. At least he’d gotten her attention. Same old Bobbi - if there was one thing he could say for her besides the obvious draws of her beauty and brains and badassery, it was that she was loyal to a fault. 

Bobbi [22:19]: Not for me, I swear  
Bobbi [22:19]: She’s got something going on with my friend Fitz  
Bobbi [22:20]: Apparently something went down at the Academy, but they’ve been talking on the forums and just figured out last night they’ve been talking to each other  
Bobbi [22:21]: Did you know anything about it?

Trip [22:22]: …….  
Trip [22:22]: Call me

Well, that was unexpected. Trip rolled with it though, getting up and heading outside to find somewhere else quiet as he hit the call button. “Bobbi Morse,” he greeted as soon as he heard her pick up. “Long time, no see. Or hear, for that matter. The Treehouse, huh?” 

“We can chit-chat later, Trip,” Bobbi said briskly, although she couldn’t help feeling a little thrill at his easy, almost affectionate greeting and tone. “Jemma, first. Are you freaking kidding me? That little shit that broke her heart at the Academy is the same guy she’s been talking to on the forums all this time? If he hurts her again, I am going to take it personally.” She was out on the balconies overlooking the rainforest canopy, staring out, not that she could see anything at this time of night. The lights from the Treehouse lit the immediate area well enough to dissuade snakes and other creatures from invading, but beyond that circle there was nothing but moon- and starlight to see by. 

Finding an out of the way spot near the pools, abandoned this late in the evening, Trip sprawled casually on a lounge chair, curious but also worried for his friend. He didn’t understand what was going on between Fitz and Jemma, but either he’d misjudged one or both scientists or there was a miscommunication of epic proportions happening. Since his instincts about people rarely failed him, he’d place money on it being the second. But before he could determine that, he needed the details. “I don’t know about him breaking her heart - they’ve both only admitted there’s ‘history’ between them, but yes, Fitz has been working on her dendrotoxin project with her on the forums, and she’s helped him with his drones.” 

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” Bobbi sighed, feeling for her brilliant friend. “Just when I had some hope that she might actually have a shot at being happy. That Fitz… If even half of what Jemma’s told me is a true, he’s an asshole. But she’s also told me about her friend from the forums and it definitely doesn’t match up.” She started pacing the balcony, phone in one hand and a baton in the other as she talked aloud through her thought process. 

“Jemma and Fitz were at the Academy together. She had a huge crush on him - same age, similar intellectual level, both British - and then they were assigned to work together. Jemma went into the partnership with high hopes, but every time she tried to talk to him he was unresponsive, or worse, snappy and rude. She came to believe that she’d done something to make him hate her. After graduation SHIELD tried to force them together again. Jemma tried to make the best of it, but she found copies of transfer paperwork on his desk and ended up filing a set of her own, too, to make it clear that they both wanted out.” 

Bobbi considered her words before continuing, wanting to be sure she was making herself clear to Trip. “I’ve only gotten bits and pieces of this story over the years, never the whole thing told at once. I don’t know that she loved him, but he left a mark. I’ve been here three years, her roommate for two, and from all accounts she hasn’t been in a relationship since. There’ve been one night stands now and again, but not often, and trust me, it’s not from lack of interest. You’ve seen her - she’s gorgeous. And she’s a genuinely nice person in ways I rarely see anymore.” She paused, hesitating before saying something she might regret. “Jemma’s not entirely unlike you that way.” 

“Why, Bobbi Morse,” Trip chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm a little. “Was that a compliment?” 

“Shut it, Trip,” Bobbi shot back, blushing a bit herself. “Fill me in on what’s happening there, before I decide I need to find a way to Miami.” 

~*~

After his conversation with Bobbi ended, Trip made his way back to the room he was sharing with Fitz, more than a little irritated. It was such an unusual state for him that he wanted to say his piece to his roommate and get it over with and hopefully resolve the situation quickly and painlessly. 

“Fitz!” he called as soon as he shut the door behind him, seeing the engineer bent over the desk with a mess of papers spread around. “We need to talk, man. The fuck is going on?” 

Fitz startled violently at the booming sound of Trip’s voice, sending the bits of hotel paper he’d been using to make calculations scattering across the floor. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at work, but he was nearly there, and if he was lucky, might be able to pass what he found to Jemma in time for her to fit it into her presentation. If she wanted to, that was. 

“Trip? Wha’ - wait! No! Dinnae step on tha’!” Fitz practically dove toward the other man’s feet, trying to save a bit of his notes from being trampled under Trip’s heavy boots. “I need tha’ t’ show Jemma-”

“Yeah, about Jemma,” Trip began, his voice cool and flat. He tried his best to be positive about everything, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible. “I called in a favor, thinking I was going to help you straighten this out and get your girl, but man… I don’t even know.” 

He pinned Fitz with a stare, his usual smile and light-hearted attitude gone. “If even half of what I just heard is true, someone should have kicked your ass on her behalf. I’m almost tempted to be that guy, but I know you and I don’t get it. What the hell was that earlier?” 

Fitz straightened, his expression clearly puzzled. He had seen Triplett be mean and intimidating, had seen him when he was excited, but this was entirely new, this oddly, seemingly emotionless man he was currently staring down. Without realizing he was even doing it, the engineer backed up a step, putting more room between himself and the looming specialist. 

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about? Wha’ about Jemma?” Fitz’ voice broke a bit on her name, and he quickly swallowed, trying to cover his obvious slip. 

“She seems like a nice girl. I don’t know if I want to help you break her heart - again,” Trip explained. “Bobbi told me Jemma’s side of what happened at the Academy. How she kept trying to work with you and you kept ignoring her or being outright rude. I’d never have even believed it of you if I hadn’t been sitting at that table tonight. But she’s turned around and gotten a crush on you because of the forums - apparently she’s been just as talkative about you as you’ve been about her.” 

Trip pinned Fitz with another stare. “She cried after you left. You can’t be all Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde like that. That’s just not cool.” 

“She- Jemma cried?” Fitz’ brow knit with concern as he flopped onto his bed, gaze directed at the pale yellow wall across from him. “I never mean’- I jus’- there are notes, on somethin’...” He sighed, scrubbed at his eyes with his fingers to clear the figures from them, and tried again. “I lef’ because I wanted t’ look at some notes on an alloy I thought migh’ help Jemma’s projec’. I wasnae tryin’ t’ be rude.”

Fitz ventured a look at Trip. He was as inscrutable as ever, causing the Scot’s stomach to sink even further as his brain caught up with the rest of what Trip had been saying. “I would check your sources. I never broke her heart. Everytime I tried t’ talk t’ her, well, she’d babble on about somethin’ else entirely, or would just stare at me. Eventually, I jus’ figured I needed t’ focus on the work, not winnin’ her over.” 

“You left with no explanation and barely a word to her, in the middle of a conversation,” Trip said, shaking his head, “And my source is her roommate and best friend. There aren’t that many women named Bobbi around - I worked with her a while back.” 

Trip shook his head and skirted around Fitz’ mess of notes to sit on the edge of his bed. “She didn’t care about you, huh? Or were you just as oblivious to her then as you are now? If she hated you, would she have bothered to invite you to dinner or deliberately try to talk to you? Especially after she figured out she’s been talking to you on the forums all this time? Women don’t tell their best friends that a man made them “feel like dirt under his shoe” unless something serious went down.” 

“You fucked up, Fitz. I gave you the information, up to you what to do with it. But I’ll tell you now, Bobbi Morse is no one to mess with, and if you hurt Jemma again, she will come find you. And something tells me that when she finally gets angry, that biochemist won’t let you off lightly, either.” 

Fitz’ mouth opened and closed a few times, his brain churning through ideas but unable to light on one to carry him through. Thinking back through his time at the Academy, he tried to think of it with an open mind, tried to see their interactions as Jemma may have seen them, and winced as Trip’s point hit home. He knew he had a habit of being overly brusque when he felt rushed (and in SHIELD, you were always on a deadline, someone was always barking orders), or even just frustrated. And no one and nothing had frustrated Leo Fitz quite like Jemma Simmons. 

After a few moments more, Fitz looked around the room, and spotting his phone still on the desk, went over and scooped it up. “I… I need a momen’ alone. I’ll be back in a bi’. Promise.” He hustled out the door, and took the short ride back up to the rooftop deck he’d hidden on the night before. Huddled on a deck chair, he toyed with his phone for a good long while, until he finally had a message he was willing to send her, one he hoped would at least allow him to get his foot in the door so he could begin repairing the damage he’d done ten years ago. 

_By now, I know you know who you’re talking to, and I know who you are, too._

_It may be backwards, or seem strange, but I’m glad we reconnected this way. I’m glad I didn’t have a chance to panic myself while speaking to you. You are easily the only person I’ve ever been intimidated by, have ever really wanted to impress, and each time I tried, well, I failed. Or thought I failed. Which is the same thing, I suppose, because I allowed myself to quit._

_I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry. It’s pathetic that it takes being able to sit behind a screen and type those words to be able to do it, but it’s the truth. It occurs to me that you, though, may be terribly disappointed in discovering who I am. For that, I apologize, and for what it’s worth, I would understand if you never answered me here again._

_One last thing. Good luck tomorrow. Not that you’ll need it (you’ll be brilliant as you always were and always are), but take it for what it’s worth, from an admirer._


	4. Chapter 4

Jemma didn’t sleep well that night to say the least, confused and unhappy, feeling foolish and more than a little embarrassed. She didn’t know which Fitz was real - the rude one that she saw in person, the shyer one she saw with Trip, or the friend she thought she’d made on the forums. She rather desperately wished she could simply walk away without regrets and forget all about Leo Fitz, but Jemma wasn’t one to give up so easily even if she got hurt in the process. And at this point, there were too many unanswered questions. 

She’d never be able to let this go until at least some of them were answered. 

As the night wore on, Jemma eventually resorted to drugging herself to sleep, the combination of nerves about her presentation and then again about Fitz conspiring to give her a totally sleepless night otherwise. It left her feeling sick and hollow eyed, but it was better than being exhausted and slow. Of course, it would have been better for her to be sharp and fully on top of her game, but at this point Jemma would take what she could get. 

When she sat at her laptop, it was to review her presentation notes and certainly not to look at the forums, but the tab was still up and open from yesterday - and the message light was glowing at her from the corner. 

It only took her a few moments to give in and click into the new message from Fitz, the contents leaving her staring at the screen. He- what? Jemma reread the message several times in quick succession. In some ways, it explained a lot. In others, Jemma was more confused than ever. She started to type a reply, but realized quickly that she didn’t even know what to say. 

Eventually she managed a short reply, intending to come up with something more coherent later. 

Good luck to you, too. 

I know I’ve said it before when I didn’t know who I was writing to, but that doesn’t make it any less true: You’re brilliant. I’m sure today won’t be any different, and your presentation will be fantastic. And now that I do know… even though we’ve almost never seen eye to eye, I’ve never wished you anything but well. Even given everything, that hasn’t changed. 

She hurriedly hit send after glancing at the clock, debating with herself. She’d sent the message - could she stand to sit and watch him present, too? Was she that big a person? 

Jemma argued both sides all the way downstairs and across the conference center. Eventually it came down to a simple realization. The person that Jemma Simmons wanted to be wouldn’t leave a friend to present on his own. And so she made her way inside, stomach in a tight knot, to take a seat on the aisle a few rows from the front. Jemma fidgeted with her dress as she waited for the presentation to begin, fiddling with her gray dress and the ruffled red blouse beneath it. 

In the wings, Fitz fidgeted, his nerves slowly cranking up on him as the clock ticked closer to his scheduled presentation. These things were always a mixed bag for him; he absolutely hated getting up and speaking in front of this many people as an expert, particularly when the room was full of his peers, but he never did poorly, either. And, the truth was, he admitted as he adjusted the knot of his tie for the umpteenth time, his presentation was as solid as it was going to get. Between his thoughts and Jemma’s, he honestly didn’t believe there was a person in that room who could think of something they hadn’t already. 

Thinking of her tugged at his conscious a bit. He hadn’t been brave enough to check the forums since he sent that message the night before, and Fitz was more than a little worried that Trip was right. Jemma had no reason to forgive him, not really, and he was trying to bring himself around to accepting that fact, as hard as it might be to swallow. 

Still, he had to know for sure whether or not he should be looking for her when he stepped onto that dais, and so Fitz decided, in his own small way, to be brave. He jerked his phone from his pocket and keyed into it, hitting his shortcut for the forums and checking his messages. The indicator glowed back at him, and although he knew it wasn’t scientifically accurate, Fitz was convinced his heart stopped for a good three beats as he waited for the message to load. 

He smiled as he read her short note, but it was wan. Fitz wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, perhaps a demand that he explain himself further or a declaration of undying love (a million movies had promised him that much, at least), but her message was… polite, at best. Polite and professional, which he understood. She didn’t owe him anything, after all, and it was a professional forum. He was lucky to get a note back, really. 

Glancing up at the clock they kept backstage, he realized it was time for him to begin, and so slid the phone back into his pocket, adjusted his jacket and tie one last time, and strode out on stage, his best “I-May-Look-17-But-I-Swear-I’m-A-Professional” look plastered across his face, and began. 

Sure enough, Fitz was right. Everything went smoothly as he explained his concept for the drones and his hope for their applications in the field, both with scientists and perhaps even during ops. But near the end of his talk, as he was going through the list of improvements he’d like to make, he faltered a bit as he caught sight of her. Jemma Simmons, sitting on an aisle near the front, just outside the ring of light projected from the dais. She smiled as he stumbled, and Fitz suddenly felt himself bolstered. He risked giving her a quick smile in return and launched into a discussion on biometrics and how he hoped that, with the appropriate collaboration, he could repurpose the drones from data-collectors to search-and-rescue devices ideal for even those territories most hostile to SHIELD and her allies.

When it was finally over, Fitz practically dashed off the stage, wanting to find Jemma and thank her for coming, but he was swept up in a tide of congratulations and eager questions. He tried to spot her in the crowd, but had no such luck. More than a little disappointed, he turned his attention to the level 7 scientist who was asking him when he hoped to go into production, and resigned himself to having to find Jemma later. 

Jemma only just made it through the entirety of Fitz’ presentation, her head aching and feeling more nauseous as the hour went on, but hearing bits of her own ideas and thoughts on Fitz’ drones kept her in her seat until it was over. When everyone else rose, many heading toward the dais at the front, Jemma slipped out a side door and out into the main hall to go hide in the ladies’ room. She hadn’t meant to smile at him, but his fumble had been almost endearing, and he’d clearly rallied after that. 

And as always, hearing Fitz speak at length about one of his designs had been fascinating altogether, even knowing as much as she did about it already. 

It took her some time, breathing through the nausea and carefully wiping her clammy skin with cool water, before Jemma was satisfied she wouldn’t embarrass herself. Heading back out into the conference center, she went through the rest of her morning and then hid again for lunch. It wasn’t that she was deliberately hiding from Fitz and Trip, exactly, but as the hours went on, Jemma was also getting more and more nervous. The brief space of quiet at lunch time was more than welcome, especially since she wasn’t going to eat, anyway. 

She did manage to sip at some water, the lemon slice she’d dropped in it helping a bit with her unhappy stomach. By the time her presentation came around though, Jemma was struggling. In the end she decided to go with the nerves, letting the excess energy bolster her tired body even though anyone who knew her would be able to tell she wasn’t feeling well. 

Glancing over the crowd, Jemma couldn’t get a good look because of the lighting focused on her, but she didn’t spot Fitz. Or Trip, for that matter. Disappointed, she nevertheless did her best, explaining the dendrotoxin, its source and the potential uses. It wasn’t until she reached the question and answer session at the end that she faltered, the sickness catching up to her and making her fumble the answer to what should have been an easy question. 

The thick brogue that sounded out and picked up Jemma’s thought, was unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. She’d take help wherever she could get it right now. 

When he’d first entered the hall, Fitz had taken a seat near the back, not wanting to interrupt or distract her if he sat too near the stage. He knew it was quite a presumptuous thought that he of all people could throw her for a loop, but he didn’t want to risk it, either. The dendrotoxin grenades that Jemma had created presented limitless possibilities, and were the kind of project that could easily catapult her into a leadership position within SciOps. He didn’t want to risk that for her, even if the risk was minimal. 

His seat in the back provided him with a good view, however, and within the first fifteen minutes, Fitz knew something was wrong. Jemma kept glancing about, her nerves clearly showing, and her movements lacked their typical grace. Concerned, he moved closer, and with each movement toward the dais, his concern grew. Her face was peaked, her skin ashen, and there was a moment where Fitz feared she’d faint beneath the warm light. Despite the signs of physical distress, however, Jemma did well, moving through her presentation with ease, and he doubted that anyone else in the room really knew anything was wrong. 

That was, until it was time for questions and answers. By then, Fitz had moved himself up to the very front, standing just to the right of the raised platform, and had a good view when Jemma struggled through a question a first year cadet should have been able to handle. He glared at the few older scientists who dared titter at Jemma’s obvious distress, and before he could think it through, found himself finishing her thought. 

Locking eyes with her, hoping it would keep her focused on him for the moment and not the rest of the audience, Fitz engaged her in a light back and forth, asking her questions about the toxin and any other possible future applications. Soon the rest of the room chimed in, and with her footing seemingly reassured, he allowed himself to fade into the background once more. 

Jemma finished her Q&A to thunderous applause, and Fitz watched with a broad smile as she curtsied and glanced around the room, giving random members of the audience a shy smile at her discretion. Using the opportunity their standing ovation provided him, he worked his way over to the foot of the stairs where he knew Jemma would exit, and made sure he was the first person to greet her with a cordial handshake as she came off the dais. 

“I tol’ you you’d be brillian’,” he whispered, using his grip on her hand to bring her in a bit closer than usual to ensure their words would be private. “Go ge’ your congratulations from your adorin’ public. I’ll catch you later, an’ we can celebrate a’ the party tonigh’.” Giving her fingers an extra little squeeze, and smiling at her, Fitz slipped out of the ballroom, wanting to give Jemma space to enjoy her moment. 

Relieved when Fitz drew her into a conversation-like exchange, Jemma managed to forget her nerves - and the feeling of illness that was swamping her long enough to get through the rest of the session. When it was over, she was already flustered by the effusive applause and so relieved to have it over and done with that she felt faint. Finding Fitz waiting for her just off the dais, smiling at her… 

Had he ever actually smiled at her before? Like, really smiling and not just those slightly patronizing curls of his mouth when he found something she’d done amusing? Combined with his words, Jemma was left staring after him in confusion. What was that, even? It was like he was a different person - like the one she knew from the forums had suddenly fully inhabited Leo Fitz’ body. Where had the awkward, surly engineer gone? Fitz’ apology on the forum last night hadn’t magically made anything better. If anything, Jemma felt more than ever that if she could just get him to talk to her, maybe they could actually get somewhere. 

However, the odds of that happening, with the party tonight and then the conference wrapping up in the morning with a late breakfast and a keynote session, were slim. 

Jemma was kept there for some time afterward, accepting greetings and congratulations from strangers and a few acquaintances. A couple of people mentioned they recalled seeing her project on the forums, which made Jemma feel better about the breach of anonymity with Fitz. Apparently Bobbi was right. It really wasn’t unheard of for the scientists to eventually figure out who was who. 

Once the crowd dispersed and Jemma could get away again, she slid into the back of the room at the next presentation she’d wanted to attend. This one was less popular than hers had been, and she grabbed a cup of water before gratefully sinking into a chair in a back corner. The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur, between her tiredness and the adrenaline letdown combined with her confusion about Fitz. 

~*~

Jemma ended up being a bit late for the party. She went back up to her room before dinner to change, and ended up falling asleep for an hour or two. It was much needed, but it didn’t really fix anything. 

After lingering in a very hot shower and taking her time with her hair and makeup, trying to disguise her tired eyes, the biochemist slipped into a knee-length lace and silk cocktail dress. Pleased that the deep violet color helped her too-pale skin to look a bit more natural, Jemma stepped into her heels and made her way downstairs to the ballroom. 

Fitz had spent a good hour on his appearance, trying to ensure that each and every curl that graced his head fell into place. Or, at least didn’t look entirely like he’d simply rolled out of bed and crawled into a suit. He was toying with his tie yet again when Trip’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. The Scot started a bit, and glanced up, blue eyes meeting brown in the glass. 

“Fitz, relax,” Trip encouraged, his soothing voice easing Fitz’ nerves. “It’s not your wedding. Hell, it’s not even prom. It’s just a cocktail party. Skip the tie.”

Fingers scrabbling at the knot in the silky material, the engineer scowled a bit as he watched his roommate step away and adjust his own cuffs. He had thought he’d looked rather dashing in a slate suit and light blue shirt, but Trip easily put him to shame, wearing the linen suit as if he were born to in it. He knew his friend was trying to be helpful, but with his nerves working on him, it was hard for Fitz to keep his obvious anxiety from showing in his tone. 

“Easy for you t’ say,” he tossed back as he flipped the discarded tie toward the dresser and smoothed down his jacket once more. “Women throw themselves at you.”

Trip at least had the grace to smile and look away instead of attempting to deny what was simply a fact. “A big part of that is because I listen to them,” he replied, hand on the door knob, ready to leave. He considered Fitz for a moment, clearly debating whether he should say more, before deciding to just be out with it. “Just… focus on her. That girl’s been stuck on you for a while. Be the man I know you can be, and you’ll be fine.”

His piece said, Trip left Fitz alone to his thoughts. He wondered if it really could be that simple, and kicked himself for having made it so difficult for so long. He also wished he’d known Triplett when he’d been 17. Perhaps if he’d known him then, he wouldn’t have bungled everything with Jemma so badly. Glancing at himself once more in the mirror, Fitz realized that he was merely stalling for time. He had promised Jemma a celebration of sorts, and he wanted to give her that, at the very least. If she’d let him. 

With a deep breath, he ducked out of his room and hurried down to the ballroom, feeling more secure than he had in a while. Whatever happened tonight would come down to the two of them and whatever happened from here, so be it. 

It took him a while to spot her in the ballroom, between the sheer number of SHIELD scientists looking to have fun on Fury’s dime and a few people still stopping to ask him questions about his presentation, but eventually he found Jemma. Rather, he spotted Trip, and had a brief moment to notice who he was dancing with before the air was knocked from his lungs. 

Fitz had always thought Jemma Simmons was beautiful, but she looked stunning now. Her dress was demure enough to pass muster for a SHIELD function, but also showed enough skin to tempt him and well over half of the other attendees. Without waiting for the song to end, the engineer strode across the dance floor, dodging other couples until he came to them and could tap his roommate on the shoulder. 

“May I cut in?” 

Jemma had been drawn into a conversation with an older gentleman who kept sidling closer and trying to touch her, prompting Jemma to sidestep once and then twice. Trip appeared at her elbow just as she was about to have to move for a third time and rescued her by asking her to dance, and Jemma managed a tired smile for him as he led her onto the dance floor. “Thanks for that,” she said, turning into his hold and taking a moment to pick up onto the foxtrot he easily swept her into. “And why am I not surprised you’re an excellent dancer?” 

Trip grinned down at her, “That old man had tried hitting on three other women already. They were less polite than you. Seemed only right to offer a rescue - I think this conference has been tough enough on you. Didn’t sleep last night, and you looked like you weren’t feeling all that well during your presentation.” He chuckled when Jemma’s eyes flew up to his in surprise. “Oh yeah, I was in the room. I was curious, after the discussion last night. I was a bit worried, actually, but Fitz stepped up and handled things.” 

He eyed her curiously, “I had an interesting conversation with Bobbi last night.” 

“You know Bobbi?” Jemma startled, missing a step that Trip handily guided her through, actually half-lifting her and bodily turning her into the next move until she picked the rhythm back up. 

“I do. There aren’t that many Bobbi’s in SHIELD. I took a chance and contacted her for intel. Bobbi vouched for you - which makes you entirely alright in my book - and Fitz has a thing for you. Figured the least I could do was try to smooth the path. I passed some things on to Fitz last night, so hopefully he gets his head out of his ass and fixes things,” Trip said with a chuckle. He was watching the entrances as much as he could, keeping an eye out for his roommate, but there was no sign of the Scot just yet. 

Making a little face, Jemma shook her head. “Well, that explains the message I got last night, then. I suppose he was feeling guilty, if you passed on everything Bobbi knows about the situation. Trip-” Jemma started, then hesitated until the specialist quirked a dark brow at her. “Is he- which one is he, really? All I’ve ever seen of him in person is what you saw at dinner last night. He’s different when we’re messaging each other. And he was- I don’t know- almost sweet when he talked to me after the presentation. I’m so confused.” 

Trip’s gaze was focused over her shoulder by the time she finished and before Trip spoke, she knew what was coming. “Fitz is on his way over here.” 

It was followed by a tap on her shoulder and Fitz’ brogue and Jemma nodded, stepping back from the taller man. “Thanks again for the rescue, Trip,” Jemma said softly, meaning it in more ways than one, now. There was no way to know if Fitz would ever have said anything if Trip hadn’t intervened on her behalf. Or more like their behalf. Fitz was his roommate, she didn’t think for a second that someone like Trip would go out of his way like that for someone without good reason. 

Jemma fought not to bite her lip when Fitz slid into Trip’s place, not wanting to chew her lipstick off. With her heels, they were perfectly at eye level, and those blue eyes were boring directly into hers. “Hi, Fitz,” she said, barely audible over the music, shy and a bit hesitant. Her eyes swept down and back up, surprised by the suit. She’d never seen him in one before, even at their graduation and she liked it. A lot. 

Fitz was grateful for the dim lighting, feeling his cheeks heat at Jemma’s appraisal. He never really expected to receive that kind of attention from her, and his ego relished the boost. “Hi, Si- Jemma,” he replied, tripping over what he should call her. She’d always been Simmons before, nice, simple and business-like, an easy way to keep from forming too obvious an attachment to her. But now that he was hoping to foster just such an attachment, Fitz couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t use her first name. 

They danced a few moments more, Fitz doing his best to take in everything about her without staring too obviously, when suddenly, his mouth was moving, seemingly of its own accord. 

“You look beautiful.” The compliment was rushed and sincere, but clearly unexpected. Fitz watched, horrified as Jemma’s eyes went wide, whether with shock or disgust, he wasn’t sure. “Chris’, ‘m sorry,” he apologized, words tripping out of his mouth as he tried to fix what he’d said, wincing at his apparent inability to speak to her. “I was jus’ thinkin’, an’ then i’ slipped, an’ ‘m sorry.”

“No, no,” Jemma hurriedly corrected him. She’d already been feeling rather shy on top of everything else, and his unexpected compliment had thrown her. She definitely wasn’t at her best. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t- I didn’t expect that.” Her cheeks were warm from her blush and Jemma ducked her head a little. “Thank you.” 

Worried that she’d already managed to make things awkward, the shift of music to a slower song was both a relief and a bit nerve-wracking. This time Jemma did bite her lip, shifting in closer to Fitz. “And thank you for earlier, too. I’m terrible with presentations and wasn’t feeling very well. Still not, really, but better without the nerves.” She cut herself off, recognizing the signs that she was going to start babbling if she wasn’t careful. 

The arm Fitz had draped about her waist snugged a bit tighter as she shifted toward him, and he smiled at her string of reassurances, pleased that she hadn’t thought he was being too forward. It was an odd kind of balance he was trying to keep, deciding how familiar he could be without putting her off, despite having known her for ten years. 

“I dinnae think anyone else noticed tha’ you felt a bi’ off,” he whispered, leading her around the dance floor. Fitz had to focus on the movements, even though it was a basic dance; he had two left feet on a good day, but add in another body to worry about and chances were high of him embarrassing himself. Still, he picked up on the way she swayed in his grasp, as though she were still a bit unsteady. “D’ you need me t’ get you somethin’? Water? Food?”

Fitz gave her a little squeeze, hoping to get her to look at him, wanting the reassurance of seeing her eyes when she answered him. 

Jemma wasn’t used to this solicitous, almost affectionate Fitz. The sudden shift from standoffish and brusque to almost affectionate was disconcerting after all their history, and Jemma honestly didn’t know how to react. A part of her was still a bit suspicious of him and his motives. How did he go from his behavior last night, just walking out on their dinner, to this, overnight? 

Confused and a little terrified of letting her guard down, in case he only turned around and broke her heart again, Jemma stilled at Fitz’ question. “Oh, god. I’m an idiot,” she muttered, half under her breath. No wonder she was still feeling ill, on top of her tiredness. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. My blood sugar must be terribly low. That would definitely explain why I still feel so shaky.” 

“A biochemist ought t’ know better,” he chided her, not unkindly, and released his hold on her. It took him a moment to work out where, exactly, he should place his hand, but it eventually settled on the small of her back, and Fitz guided her out of the circle of dancers and over to a thankfully empty table. “Here, sit down and dinnae move. I’ll be righ’ back.” 

Fitz allowed himself one backward glance, just to be sure that Jemma was where he left her, and then turned his attention to the rest of the room. He’d seen waitstaff circling earlier with trays of hors d’oeuvres, and chased them down, gathering cocktail napkins full of little bits of everything. His actions earned him more than a few odd looks, but the Scot remained oblivious, his only concern the task at hand. 

Once he had what he thought might be enough, he carefully carried his haphazard meal back to the table, and gingerly set it before Jemma. “I’s no’ much,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, “bu’ I figured somethin’ would be better than nothin’.” Noticing another waiter passing nearby, thankfully with waters, Fitz reached out and grabbed two, one for each of them. “Eat, Jemma,” he encouraged when he noticed she had yet to touch what he’d put before her, “or I’ll have t’ explain t’ your roommate why you fainted. From wha’ Trip’s told me, tha’s somethin’ I’d rather avoid.” 

Jemma let him lead her off the dance floor, and watched as he gathered a few pieces of his collection before he was lost in the crowd of people. Curious and rather bemused, she people watched for a bit before he returned to the table, his hands full of food. It was sweet, in a way. Even though she truly needed a more balanced meal than what the hors d’oeuvres would provide, it was a start. 

“You’re right,” she admitted with a small smile. “It was silly of me not to eat, but honestly, I had so much else on my mind… Anyway. Thank you.” The smile widened nearer to a grin when Fitz mentioned Bobbi. “Ah. The formidable Bobbi Morse. No, I don’t think it would go well if you upset her,” Jemma giggled at the mental image of Fitz going toe to toe with the specialist. She wrinkled her nose and turned her attention back to Fitz. “You can sit, you know. Hovering like that makes me nervous you’re going to run off again.” 

Ducking in the hopes of hiding his blush, Fitz took the seat next to Jemma and began fidgeting with the now-empty napkin before him. Her words had called to mind Trip’s previous scolding about how he’d just walked out on dinner the night before. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, risking a quick glance at her. “I suppose I dinnae have the bes’ track record when i’ comes to dinner plans.” His cheeks flushed further even as he tried to make a joke out of his bad behavior. Hopefully, Jemma, despite having no reason to treat him kindly, would take pity on an engineer with next to no social skills.

A bit embarrassed - Jemma hadn’t meant to bring that up - and feeling for him, seeing his expression, she was silent for a few minutes as she nibbled her way through some of the food. Her stomach began to settle down a bit, having something in it, and Jemma sighed at the lingering feeling of silliness. Fitz was right. As a biochemist, she knew better than to not eat for an entire day. Her mind was more than happy to rattle off an extensive list of biological processes she’d stunted via lack of fuel, easily explaining all her symptoms, including the lingering dizziness and the faint trembling in her limbs. 

Eventually though, she found her gaze shifting toward Fitz, fidgeting quietly at her side. “Fitz- Why did you run out on dinner?” Jemma’s voice was soft and shy, even as she braced for the return of the grumpy, uncommunicative engineer she was so much more familiar with. “I’ve never been able to figure out what it is I do that makes you so-” she paused, carefully selecting words, “So unwilling to be around me.” 

Fitz’ neck snapped around at Jemma’s last statement, and he stared for a moment, more than a little befuddled as how to answer. When they’d first met, Fitz had forever been looking for excuses, both to be around Jemma and to say something to her, but after a few aborted attempts, hadn’t been able to bring himself to keep trying. Not when it had seemed so obvious to him at the time that she didn’t want him around. Now, however, with the way she was looking at him, hazel eyes both expectant and fearful, Fitz was beginning to think he’d been wrong all along. 

Jemma deserved an answer, that much he knew, but he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of spilling his guts here, in a ballroom full of increasingly intoxicated co-workers who could observe their interactions. 

“I think i’ migh’ be better t’ show you than t’ tell you why I lef’ in th’ middle of dinner last night,” Fitz began, leaning in so she could hear him above the ruckus around them. “You know th’ deck on th’ roof? Could you meet me up there in a few minutes? I jus’ need t’ stop by my room an’ grab some notes.” He watched her, lower lip caught between his teeth as he silently prayed Jemma would agree to his strange request without asking too many questions. 

He caught her eyes when his head spun around, but Jemma couldn’t hold his gaze, her hazel eyes lowering to where her own fingers were fiddling with the toothpick stuck into one of the bits of food left on the table. If only they didn’t have the memories of the Academy lingering over him, if she’d met Fitz only as the genius engineer she’d been working with on the forums, this conference might have been so much different for her. As it was, Jemma thought she might be going back to the Treehouse exhausted and rather disheartened. 

She sighed when he suggested going up to the rooftop deck, but eventually agreed. “Alright, Fitz,” Jemma said, a little wary. “Just- I’m not even sure what to think about you right now. You can’t play hot and cold, will you or won’t you. It’s not fair. So if you’re only suggesting this to send me off on a wild goose chase while you disappear…” 

“I’ll be righ’ up, I promise,” he quickly cut in, ignoring the sting he felt when Jemma accused him of merely wanting to be rid of her. Although, Fitz supposed he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t given her much cause to trust him, at least not in person. And a few messages and moments during a convention certainly couldn’t erase all of the history between them, but he could at least hope for a start. 

Jemma watched him for a beat, and Fitz held his breath while she clearly deliberated about whether he was trustworthy. Something, perhaps his clearly pleading expression, convinced her though, and he trailed her out of the ballroom and onto the lifts. When the car stopped at his floor, he reluctantly stepped forward, hand lingering against the door, and cast a look back to her. Only then did it occur to him that Jemma could change her mind and go back to her room, never mind the roof, and frankly he would deserve it if she did. 

“I’ll be righ’ there. Promise.” With that, he allowed the door to shut and practically sprinted to his room. Near frantic, Fitz rushed into the small space, gathering the multitude of notes he’d scrawled last night on the hotel’s stationery and grabbing the case his drones were stored in. It took less than the space of a minute, but every second was precious; one second too long, and Jemma might decide he wasn’t worth waiting for any longer.


	5. Chapter 5

She could tell she’d hurt him with her comment, but Jemma was trying to protect herself against being hurt yet again. It seemed that some cosmic force wanted her and Fitz to be part of each other’s lives, no matter what. Jemma might be sweet, but she wasn’t a pushover. If having Fitz around meant she always had to keep up her guard, careful not to let him in far enough to hurt her, then she’d shove him back, come what may. 

This back and forth with him, especially now, when he was suddenly being nice to her, had her completely out of sorts and a part of her really and truly wanted to say she was too tired and was going back to her room. His pleading expression though, those blue eyes begging her to give him a chance, were irresistible, and Jemma stifled a sigh, nodding. “Alright, then. I’ll meet you upstairs.” 

Fitz didn’t leave her side until they reached his floor on the elevator, and Jemma could tell he’d taken her comment about leaving her seriously with the way he was so quick to reassure her. Once Jemma reached the rooftop patio though, her insecurities rushed back. They washed over and through, leaving her staring out over the railing, the Miami skyline lit up around her as she hugged her arms around herself. It was breezier up here than expected, and she shivered as she waited for Fitz to arrive. 

He dashed up to the roof, forgoing the elevator entirely (who knew when those things had last been inspected, or if they would break down), bursting through the door out of breath. Fitz’ gaze landed on her immediately, and he froze in the open doorway, struck by how beautiful she was. Beautiful and solitary. An ache formed in his chest at the idea that he was the one who had caused her to close off like that, even incidentally, and he approached her well aware of how poorly he’d treated her in the past. 

The door to one side unexpectedly clanged open and Fitz spilled through it, panting and clearly exerted as he thrust a handful of papers at her. His half-babbled, halting explanation had her brows drawing together as she took the scribbled notes and peered at them. 

Setting the case down next to her, Fitz stepped up to the railing and cleared his throat, his hand extended to offer her the hastily scrawled ideas about her dendrotoxin grenades. “I dinnae leave dinner because o’ you,” he began, words coming quickly lest he lose his nerve. “Well, a’ leas’ no’ directly. I jus’ go’ caught on the idea of dendrotoxin bullets. You see, there’s an alloy we’ve been workin’ with a’ the Ranch, and I jus’... well, I wanted my notes to be sure.” He pressed the papers closer, wanting her to take them. “Tha’s all I go’ done last nigh’ before Trip came in.” 

Jemma finally accepted his offering, and Fitz ducked, hoping she wouldn’t think him utterly foolish for running off in the middle of a meal to play with an idea that was theoretical at best. 

It took Jemma a bit to understand just what he’d done, the notes out of order and haphazard, but eventually she got it. And rocked back on her heels as another possibility came to mind. “Why do I feel like you’re more than happy to work with my ideas, but the last thing you’d ever want is to actually have to work with me?” Jemma whispered, the breeze nearly stealing the words away unheard. “You- just left. For this. To take my idea and work on it alone and give it back to me after you fixed it.” The stab of hurt was sharp and deep, and to her shame, Jemma’s eyes filled. She hated crying, especially in front of anyone else. “God, I can’t do this again. I can’t have this terrible crush on you and have you treat me like I’m useless again. I can’t.” 

Jemma stared down at the stack of notes in her hands, desperately wanting to take those ideas and make them part of her project. They were bloody brilliant, as Fitz’ ideas usually were, but she was terrified of history repeating itself, even if he was behaving himself today. 

“I never though’ you were useless.”

All the while she’d been speaking, Fitz had been content to allow Jemma to make her point. Her words carried the weight of truth, after all, and he knew he deserved to be brought to task for how he’d behaved in the past. But he was a stickler for fact, if nothing else, and he had never heard anyone be more mistaken. He couldn’t allow that to continue. 

“I mean i’,” he pressed, taking a half step more into her space, desperate for her to understand, “the idea tha’ you were useless has never, ever crossed my mind. No’ at the Academy or at SciOps or now, with this. I jus’-” Fitz broke off, still unsure just how much of himself he was willing to reveal to Jemma. Despite all that had happened, everything that had been said both on the forums and in person, the likelihood of her telling him to go to hell was astronomical. Even if one was braced for it, it wasn’t a fun thing to hear. But if that was the price he had to pay, so be it. 

“The majority o’ my career as a SHIELD scientist has been mean’ t’ impress you.” Jemma cut him off with a scoff, and Fitz found he had to look away, unwilling to watch her reaction as he shared this part of himself that he’d kept secret for so long. “I mean i’, I spen’ a good week tryin’ t’ come up with something’ t’ say tha’ would impress you. Somethin’ brilliant and funny. Somethin’ tha’ would get your attention. You may have noticed,” he continued, swallowing heavily past the nerves that had blocked his throat, “‘m lousy with people. I have a tendency t’ rub them the wrong way. I wanted t’ make sure I didnae do tha’ with you, bu’ when I found i’... I forget wha’ happened, bu’ i’ fell flat. I bungled i’ somehow, an’ the look you gave me… I though’ I should jus’ stay silent. 

“Then, there were the cat guts nex’ t’ my lunch, and we were always bickerin’, and I jus’ took i’ t’ mean you didnae wan’ me around.” Fitz shrugged and finally managed to look up at her. Jemma’s eyes were such a tangle of emotion he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, and it terrified him. 

“You were the firs’ lab partner I ever had tha’ could keep up wit’ me. And, you were a beautiful girl, t’ boot. I was out o’ my depth from the star’.” He gave her a small, hopeless shrug, and poked at the case holding his drones, easily his most successful solo project to date, with his toe. “You deserve credit for these, too, in a way. You made a commen’ in Sayer’s winter lecture, the one about data collection in the field, about how i’ would be nice t’ have consistent readings and methods of sample takin’ with all agents. You may have forgotten, bu’ the idea stuck with me. So, trus’ me, I have never, ever though’ you, o’ all people, were useless.” 

Jemma sank into a chair, stunned and speechless and a little unsteady on her heels. “But…” She was trying to assimilate this new information into what she’d always thought about their botched partnership. “Fitz. You- why didn’t you say something? I was thrilled when they paired us off. And terribly, terribly nervous.” She bit her lip and looked up at him shyly. “I’d thought we could be friends, at least, even if I was sort of hoping for more. And then everything went to shite.” 

She sighed and looked at his notes again, torn between her frustration and being impressed as always, at his quick intelligence and creativity. “I even thought when they assigned us both to the Hub after graduation that maybe… but I saw the transfer paperwork on your desk and I knew it was because of me. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me if you didn’t want to be there, so I put in a request of my own. I’ve refused to let SHIELD make me work with a partner ever since.” 

There was a long stretch of silence, and Jemma swiped at the tears that had trickled down over her cheeks. She slipped her feet out of her heels and carefully drew her legs up to curl sideways. “On the forums… I resisted putting up the dendrotoxin for a month, trying to figure it out on my own. Working with you… It was so easy. I hate that our history is getting in the way of that now.” Her cheeks went pink again, her eyes darting around, anywhere but at Fitz. “And that I stupidly have a crush on you again, which just complicates everything.”

Jemma’s admission, that she’d had a crush on him once and that it had resurfaced now, did odd things to Fitz’ gut, things he wasn’t quite sure how to address, or if he even should. “My mum’s righ’, I think,” he said, leaning down to pry open his carrying case. Taking out one of the seven drones, he crossed to sit in the chair next to her, and began to fiddle with it. He wasn’t sure why, but something about giving his hands something to do made it easier for him to talk to Jemma. It was as if he could distract part of his brain, he wouldn’t make quite as big a fool of himself. 

“Fate has a sense o’ humor,” he explained, his shrug a bit more relaxed now that the most difficult part of their conversation had seemingly passed and he had something to do with his hands. “I only pu’ the reques’ in because I though’ it’d be unfair to expec’ you t’ work with me again. I though’ you deserved a shot at somethin’ better.” 

He polished the tiny drone with his sleeve, buffing out an imaginary scuff, needing something to divert his attention from her eyes as he circled around to what had really caught his attention. “I certainly never expected t’ have my crush reciprocated. Then or now.” Fitz glanced at her briefly, wanting to see how she’d react to his admission. It wasn’t the bold statement Trip might make, but for him, it was daring to say even that much. 

Jemma’s breath caught at Fitz’s words, shifting slightly to watch him as he fiddled with the drone, only catching the slightest flash of blue as he quickly looked away from her. Her heartbeat was skittering all over the place, but Jemma didn’t know if any of this was good or bad. Yes, it seemed they were finally being honest with each other, but that still didn’t mean anything was going to come of it. Even if they worked things out, she had to go back to Brazil, him to Wyoming, and both of them back to the forums. If they didn’t both get in trouble for figuring out the other’s identity. 

He was quiet, and Jemma kept watching, admiring Fitz’ hands as he made adjustments to his tiny creation. Eventually her skin broke into goose bumps between that and the breeze, cool up here on the 34th floor. Jemma climbed up from the chair and moved to stare out and hug herself again, a meager defense against both the wind and her own inevitable thoughts. 

Fitz wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting her to do, but he was mildly disappointed by Jemma’s seeming non-reaction. He’d never been a patient person, which was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He hadn’t been patient enough with Jemma the first time around. That in mind, he refused to give into his initial impulse to feel hurt and run away as a result. 

He was just settling into the silence, trying to give her time to figure out what was in her head as his fingers mindlessly skimmed over the robot’s metallic surface, when Jemma’s movement caught his attention. She didn’t say anything, and Fitz stopped his fidgeting to watch as she halted at the railing, arms wrapped around herself, and simply observed the city spread below her. He took a moment just to admire her; she may not have realized that he even noticed, but Fitz had always seen a beautiful, capable woman. It seemed foolish to waste an opportunity to take that in. 

Even he wasn’t so dense though as to not notice the way her arms snugged more tightly around her middle when the breeze picked up, and before he could think too much about what he was doing, Fitz had set the drone aside to lever himself off his chair. Quickly closing the distance between them, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over Jemma’s shoulders. “You looked like you could use tha’,” he said by way of explanation when she looked up at him, her expression clearly questioning, and stepped in close behind her. 

Jemma’s thoughts were circling in her head. He’d had a crush on her, too? Looking back at their time at the Academy, she struggled to look at his behavior from an unbiased view. She’d been so flustered and then hurt by his behavior - and god, they’d been so young - that Jemma had never thought to look beyond her own feelings. It was shameful, even though she could understand how it had happened, when she considered it all as a whole. 

Fitz had been rude and terrible at communicating with her. But there had been moments when she could have realized there was something else going on. Jemma had been so selfishly focused on her own feelings that she’d ignored it, though, and now they were here. 

She jumped, startled when he slid his jacket around her, not just from the sudden warmth, but that he’d been that considerate. Jemma caught the edges and drew them in around her, murmuring a soft thank you. Before she could say anything else though, Fitz stepped in closer. He wasn’t exactly touching her, but he was close enough that Jemma could almost feel the weight of him against her back. “Fitz,” she said softly. “Can we just- can we start over? What happened at the Academy… that was ten years ago. I know I’m a different person than I was then. And I want to believe that you’re not that oblivious 17 year old anymore, either.” 

If he hadn’t been standing so close behind her, the likelihood that Fitz would have heard Jemma’s quiet request was nil. As it was, with him standing so close behind her he might as well have had his arms around her waist, he heard her words clearly enough to give him pause. Could they simply elect to forget the past ten years? Could he?

Leo Fitz hated change, hated having to adapt to new situations… but he also realized his recalcitrance to do so had harmed him in the past. Case in point, everything with Jemma. Looking back, he realized now just how many opportunities he’d had to make things right with her, or at least to have been less of an arse, but he’d never taken them. He’d been given a chance, thanks to fate and Jemma’s apparently infinite goodness, to make that right. How could he turn that away? 

Decided, he took his hands from his pockets to rest them gently against her upper arms, just enough to give them both a bit of physical reassurance. “I’d like tha’,” he began, his voice just as quiet as hers had been. “I cannae promise tha’ I won’ still be oblivious a’ times. Migh’ need you t’ smack me upside the head sometimes, bu’... ‘M willin’ t’ try.”

Jemma tipped her head back, but ended up turning under his hands, wanting to get a good look at him. “Just- talk to me, Fitz. I don’t read people well, at all. If something’s wrong, say so,” she said, voice still soft but more emphatic now, hazel eyes searching his face. “If you can’t, well… I can deal with quiet. I’m okay with quiet.” It was when he was snapped at her, turning that cold tone and frigid eyes on her that Jemma couldn’t handle it. 

She was so relieved that he’d agreed to try… If she could just focus on the Fitz she knew online, the one who didn’t treat her like an idiot, Jemma might just be able to move on and build on what they already had. Dwelling on what happened a decade ago at the Academy would only wash away the shaky foundations of what they had now. “And I can try- try not to assume so much,” Jemma murmured. 

Barefoot, she was inches shorter than Fitz again, her head tipped up to watch him. After a moment, she impulsively snaked an arm out from under Fitz’ jacket to curl around his slender body, leaning in and pressing her forehead against his shoulder. Part of her was still half-expecting Fitz would push her away, one way or another, especially given that she’d just invaded his personal space. She braced herself for rejection, just in case, squeezing her eyes shut. 

When he felt her shift beneath his hands, Fitz braced himself to take a step back, expecting Jemma to rebuke him for daring to lay hands on her, and began to fret that he’d done something wrong. It would be just like him, to take a step forward only to bring himself back six paces a few short moments later, that it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least if that happened. Instead, he was treated to the brief, happy sight of Jemma wrapped in his jacket before she reached for him, her slender arm banding strongly about his waist and anchoring him against her. 

Fitz froze. He’d kissed a girl or two at the odd office gathering after imbibing too liberally, but this was new. Those girls had never wanted to cuddle him, and he’d never felt particularly tactile with them, so he’d never had to figure out where to put his arms or hands or how, exactly, he should hold a woman. He wanted to try, though, and cautiously, waiting to see if Jemma would give him a clue about whether he was mucking up something this simple, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. When she didn’t protest that, he ducked his head down, his chin pressed against her crown. Her shampoo must have been some floral concoction, and Fitz’ favorite image of Jemma Simmons, her as a bright summer day, came charging back to the forefront of his imagination, bringing a faint smile to his lips. 

“My mum always said I was terribly dense for a genius,” he mumbled into her hair, eyes slipping shut as he held her close. “I can learn t’ be patien’, t’ avoid snappin’ all the time. Bu’ please tell me when I cross a line. I cannae always tell when I’ve gone too far.” They’d both created so much hurt already, but it pained Fitz to think that, even with her giving him a second chance, he could so easily do it again and not realize what he’d done after it was too late. 

There was such a long hesitation before Fitz’ arms lifted around her that Jemma nearly skittered away from him, an apology already sitting on her lips and ready to spill out. He caught her close though, and she relaxed, relieved. The gentle wash of his breath in her hair a beat or two later had Jemma curling into his arms, trembling faintly as all the nerves and fear and uncertainty slipped away. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start, and Jemma would take that. She wasn’t a scientist for nothing; there was rarely an experiment that couldn’t be tried again from a different angle. That was how she was going to look at herself and Fitz. 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma laughed at his comment, but it was quiet and amused, shared humor rather than mocking, “You really are dense for a genius.” She took the opening though, turning to lay her cheek against his shoulder instead of hiding against it. “I don’t know if I could be any clearer just to say I find you terribly attractive. When you’re not randomly walking out on dinner or hiding from me in airports and such, at least.” She flushed and bit her lip, waiting for some sort of reaction. 

Given that it was Fitz, and how odd his behavior had been even just at this conference, Jemma didn’t want to count on any particular reaction. She was really hoping, given the things he’d said tonight that once he relaxed a little, he would be more like the Fitz from the forums, bright and witty and a bit sarcastic with an undertone of sweet that she got flashes of now and then. It was a shame that she wouldn’t get to- Jemma suddenly remembered that no matter what happened between them, they were going separate ways tomorrow and fought not to tense up again, afraid he’d notice.

The conference was over tomorrow at noon. She’d have to go back to Brazil, Fitz would be going back to Wyoming, wherever that was in the States - she’d have to look it up - and they’d only have electronic communication between them. Jemma wouldn’t get to see his face lit up with a smile, feel him hold her like this, or anything else that… Oh, god, she was such a fool. And yet, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe Fitz would consider transferring, if they could talk SHIELD into letting them have another shot at working together. 

Suddenly feeling sad and perhaps a little desperate, Jemma twined her other arm around Fitz, clinging even as her move sent his jacket slithering to the ground. 

Fitz’ cheeks went flame red when she told him, in the plainest language possible, that she found him attractive. He certainly didn’t think of himself as a catch; yes, he was a genius, but he was also short and scrawny and, as he’d demonstrated often enough this weekend, awkward to a fault. “I promise, no runnin’ out on dinner dates. No’ anymore.”

Her renewed grip on him didn’t go unnoticed, and he gladly ignored his suit jacket hitting the floor in favor of savoring Jemma’s touch. Something was wrong, he could tell that much, although he had no idea where her mind had wandered. Fitz, recalling what his mother had done for him when he’d been upset as a youngster, he began to make shushing sounds, his hands rubbing slowly over her back. His fingertips skated up and over the skin bared by her dress, and Fitz found himself fascinated by the contrast in texture between the lace of her dress and the silkiness of her skin. 

“I mean i’, Jemma,” he whispered, trying to be what she needed while having no clue what that might be. “No walkin’ out. No hidin’. No’ anymore.”

Jemma nodded against his shoulder, unable to speak just then. What if her anonymous friend really had been someone else? Would she and Fitz have simply been ships passing in the night and she’d never have known that she’d been so very wrong about him before? Would it have mattered if she’d ended up happy with that other person? The ‘what might have been’ tangled in her head for a moment, before the optimist in her gave her the ‘what could be’, instead. 

Her and Fitz working late in the lab, tired but beaming at cracking a problem. Giggling together on the couch in her rooms, watching TV. Waking up cradled in his arms much like she was right now… Jemma’s eyes drifted shut at the combination of her imagination and the hesitant stroke of Fitz’ hands over her body, only to be pulled back when he whispered to her. 

Finally lifting her head to look up at him, Jemma bit her lip, hesitant. “Okay,” she said simply, with a little nod. “I guess we go from here, then.”

“Yeah. We go from here,” he agreed, feeling a little dazed at the sight of her, windswept and gorgeous in that deep purple dress. 

Fitz had never been what one could call a romantic, not by any stretch of the imagination. He had always scoffed at the idea of finding a one-and-only, or that one moment could be more meaningful than another; science told him that with seven billion people on the earth, the idea of one, singular soulmate was utterly ridiculous. But there, on a roof in Miami, with Jemma looking up at him from beneath her lashes, his heart skipped a beat and his breathing went shallow. 

The breeze had knocked a few strands loose from her chignon, and Fitz indulged himself, bringing a hand up to brush them back behind her ear. His fingers lingered, skimming over her cheek before trailing down to her neck, and he had the ludicrous thought that they would make for a rather twee scene in one of those movies he was always mocking before he lowered his mouth to press against hers. 

Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his, and Fitz felt himself sigh in relief as Jemma returned the gesture, and he allowed both of his hands to fall back to her waist. He knew he’d be mocked if he ever said it aloud, but now, he thought he finally understood just what all of those books and movies and songs had been going on about after all. 

Jemma had been hoping, but hadn’t really expected Fitz to kiss her. The brush of his fingers against her cheek sent her heartbeat racing, but when he leaned in Jemma would have sworn it stuttered to a stop. She still had her arms around him, but her hands ended up on Fitz’ hips for balance as she pushed up into his kiss. He was hesitant, she could tell, slow and exploratory, and it made her heart melt a bit that he was being so very careful. 

She broke from his lips after a while, breathless, flushed and needing to catch her breath, hazel eyes glowing in the dim light and a shy smile on her face. Fitz was staring at her and Jemma thought he looked almost as flummoxed as she felt. It made her smile widen and Jemma wrinkled her nose at him, amused at them both. 

When Fitz still seemed nervous, Jemma raised her hands to cup his jaw and went back up on her toes to kiss him again. It wasn’t as if she was terribly experienced - she’d only had one night stands over the years, no real relationships - but Jemma was pretty sure she knew what she was about. This kiss was rather less innocent than the one he’d given her, but Jemma was happy to lead, although she ended up giggling against his mouth between kisses when he startled at the touch of her tongue against his. 

Pleased by the way things were going, Jemma’s heart also melted a bit when her brain finally worked through the logic of what all this meant and realized Fitz actually was that innocent. It made sense in a sad way, given how awkward he was most of the time, and the likely lack of potential partners at the Ranch, but still… Jemma reminded herself to be careful not to let either of them make more mistakes because they simply didn’t know any better. When she moved back this time, it was to give him another bright smile, “So… hi.” 

Fitz hadn’t been expecting her to kiss him again, but when her hands, warm and soft, curled around his jaw, he easily sank back into it. With Jemma leading, he allowed his mind to wander, his focus darting from the way her body felt pressed against his to the softness of her lips. He was so distracted, his brain unable to pick only one thing to center itself on, that he hadn’t expected her tongue to slip against his own. The sensation, unusual but not unpleasant, shocked him, and he blushed when Jemma giggled, aware that his lack of experience with women was showing. 

He was ready to pull away and apologize, certain she wouldn’t want him after that, when to his delight, Jemma renewed the kiss. Fitz relaxed, his mouth curling into a smile against hers. He was still worried he’d disappoint her in some way, and given their history it seemed likely, but if Jemma was willing to work with him on this, well… he could figure it out. Or at least do his damnedest to put two and two together. She was worth the bit of embarrassment that might entail, after all. 

The grin she gave him made Fitz feel ten times lighter, and he marveled for a moment at how quickly things could turn around once people were clear with each other. “Hi yourself,” he murmured, ducking down to brush his nose against hers and giving in to the desire to simply be near her. He’d kept her at arm’s length for so long, that being able to do this, stand right next to her, was a pleasure he couldn’t have imagined in and of itself. 

In the back of his mind, Fitz was well aware that they’d have to part ways tomorrow. That, aside from exchanging phone numbers, it would be back to digital communication from now on. It was another reason to hate the Ranch, cold and remote as it was, with work that didn’t really capture his interest, but he didn’t want to focus on that now. He wanted to focus on the woman who, for some reason, clearly wanted to kiss him as much as he did her. 

Jemma’s nose wrinkled again at his little nuzzle, laughing softly as she ducked away and leaned her head against Fitz’ shoulder. There was just enough height difference between them for that to work almost perfectly, and she sighed in contentment. Well, except for the lingering knowledge that she’d have to give him up tomorrow. And that it was getting rather too chilly for her up here on the rooftop deck. His hands were a steady point of warmth on her hips and her front was fine, but her legs and back were unprotected. 

“Would you mind terribly if we went inside?” Jemma asked quietly. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten quite spoiled by the heat in Brazil.” Which was true. She’d spent the first six months or so at the Treehouse absolutely miserable until she’d adjusted to the heat and humidity, and now this - Miami, of all places, even if they were on the rooftop at night - felt too cool. “I’ve a room to myself,” she added hesitantly. Jemma wasn’t sure where exactly they were heading and wouldn’t push, but she wasn’t at all opposed to other things happening tonight. 

After all, they’d already wasted so much time being blind to each other’s feelings and they’d be separated again, tomorrow. 

Her words - specifically the implication lurking just behind them, if he wasn’t misreading her terribly - caused Fitz’ jaw to drop a bit. The idea that Jemma Simmons, the girl who had knocked him rather firmly on his arse at 17, could be inviting him back to her room sent his heart skipping and halted his usually busy brain. The most he could manage was to lick his lips and nod, head bobbing perhaps a bit too eagerly. 

“If you’d be more comfortable bein’ inside, we’ll go inside,” he replied, using his grasp on her to shift Jemma a bit to the right before relinquishing her to bend down and retrieve his jacket. He shook it out, knocking the bit of dirt that had accumulated there, and with a pleased, bashful smile, draped it over Jemma’s shoulders once more. “Jus’ let me grab the drones.”

Sparing a look, as though to make sure she was really real, Fitz hurriedly gathered the drone he’d taken out, and replacing it, packed up his case. The notes he’d made for Jemma were folded, hastily but neatly, and tucked into his pocket for later, before he returned to where she was waiting for him. Fitz paused for a moment, just to appreciate the woman before him and his luck, before slowly reaching for her hand. With Jemma’s palm pressed to his, and her delicate fingers twined with his, he nodded toward the lift. 

“Lead on, lass. I go where you go.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jemma led Fitz downstairs to her room, fingers tangled with his as if he might try to get away from her. After leading him inside, she hurriedly cleared away some of her mess - Jemma had left her clothes from earlier in the day scattered about when she changed into the dress - and offered him a seat. Feeling shy again, and rather nervous, she shrugged at the disarray and motioned him toward a chair. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to change clothes. Shouldn’t take me more than a minute,” Jemma rambled out as she dug into her bag. 

She came up with a black camisole and a pair of pajama pants, vanishing into the bathroom and quickly swapping the dress for more comfortable attire. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable. The dress wasn’t that revealing, after all, but Jemma was more than aware of wearing something that Fitz clearly found alluring while alone together in her hotel room. 

Just having the opportunity to relax in his presence and talk more, to learn more and better understand Fitz, would be wonderful. If there happened to be more kissing and cuddling involved, Jemma would be even happier. Anything beyond that would simply be an unexpected bonus. Fitz was clearly inexperienced and if he wasn’t okay with anything else, Jemma was not going to push. The last thing she wanted was to damage the new understanding between them by being too forward. 

Scrubbing her face clean of makeup, Jemma took the pins from her hair, brushing out the thick mass before twisting it up in a much less formal knot on the back of her head, stray strands falling over her ears. A few deep breaths to steady herself, and she swung the bathroom door open again, hesitating in the doorway. Fitz looked awfully nervous, Jemma noted almost instantly. “Fitz, relax. I didn’t bring you down here to… Well. Not now, at least. Maybe later, if it seems a reasonable conclusion to the evening?” 

The corner of her mouth twisted up into a bashful smile, a blush tinting her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to give the impression that- I’d just like to spend some time with you. Without Trip. I know he means well, but this is between us.” 

Fitz ducked his head under the guise of setting his case down in an unobtrusive corner of her room as Jemma quickly hid the various items of clothing she’d shed earlier and dug into her bag. He waited a beat, watching as her feet disappeared around the doorframe and listening for the faint metallic click of the latch, before he really looked around the room. 

It wasn’t that much different from the room he shared with Trip, really, other than there being one king-sized bed where their room held two queens. Jemma, too, had notes scattered across her desk, and her bag was propped up in a corner, half open with a single shirt cuff sticking out past the zipper. Apparently she didn’t believe in going through the hassle of unpacking for a three day conference, either. 

Noticing that she’d left his jacket on the bed, and finally giving in to his desire to fidget, Fitz picked it up and carefully laid it over the back of the desk chair, hoping to keep most of the wrinkles out of it. The task hadn’t taken nearly as long as he’d hoped, and he shoved his hands deep in his pockets so he wouldn’t give into the urge to touch anything. Just as he’d been convincing himself that Jemma couldn’t have possibly meant to have invited him down to her room, that he’d be better off going back to his own quarters now before he had a chance to embarrass himself, the door swung open, revealing her once more. 

Fitz thought it was supremely unfair how much more attractive she was dressed down than she’d been for the party. There was an extra bit of softness to her, without her makeup and hair done up, that made him itch to take her up in his arms again and kiss her once more. He wondered, briefly, if this was how she looked when she first woke up in the morning. That thought was instantly chased out by the idea that he might have a chance to find out for himself, if he didn’t ruin things entirely, and Fitz felt his cheeks heat, a bit ashamed that he was getting so far ahead of himself. 

With the bed looming large between them, Jemma’s next words didn’t help much, and Fitz nearly choked on his own tongue when he realized that his thoughts on how the evening might go weren’t entirely off base. That was a first for him, at least where women were concerned. Trying to regain some of his earlier nerve, he forced his hand from his pocket to run his fingers through his curls, sending the already messy mop of hair further into disarray. 

“Trip… Trip can be a bi’ meddlesome,” he agreed, finally managing to look Jemma in the eye. She looked so relieved when he looked at her that Fitz couldn’t help the involuntary way his lips curled upward in response. “He’s a good guy, bu’ sometimes he can be a bi’ o’ a gossip.” 

Jemma saw the shift in his expression and the deep blush even in the light from the single lamp she’d turned on. It confirmed her suspicion that Fitz was just as innocent as she’d thought up on the roof and it suddenly made her that much more nervous. Even if things went well, would she be wrong to try and seduce Fitz in a hotel room knowing that by tomorrow afternoon they’d have thousands of kilometers and SHIELD’s whims standing between them? 

The thought of asking and possibly being rejected stung, but it would be the right thing to do if it came down to that, Jemma reminded herself firmly. Fitz stared at her across the bed, his expression lit up like a small boy seeing a pile of presents on Christmas morning, but then he ducked away looking embarrassed. His fingers mussed his hair and Jemma’s itched in response, wanting to brush them back into place and soothe him out of his worry. 

She’d spent so long then wanting to be close to him that having the opportunity now still felt surreal. 

“I can see that,” Jemma said, smiling softly at Fitz’ comment about Trip and happy for the distraction from staring at him. “He cares about you, at least. Enough to call my roommate to get information, when I sort of got the feeling there’s history between them, too.” She wrinkled her nose for a moment at the meddling, but her smile cleared again quickly. Jemma couldn’t be angry at Trip when the other agent’s intervention might have been the only thing that cleared the path between her and Fitz enough for them to get here. 

Moving around to Fitz’ side, Jemma bit her lip, considering. He still seemed nervous and she’d put money on him skittering away if she tried to touch him yet, even for something simple and utterly platonic. “Can- can I see those notes again? I didn’t really get a good look at what you suggested about the delivery mechanism.” 

Once he’d handed them over, Jemma crawled onto the bed, arranging herself cross-legged up against the pillows and spreading the hodge-podge of hotel napkins and notepaper across the duvet before her. “Okay…” she murmured, glancing over everything at once. “I think I have the basic idea, but… explain?” 

“I’s easier if you look a’ ‘em this way,” he replied, leaning in over the mattress to rearrange a few of the notes. They weren’t perfectly in line with how he’d drawn them up, not as she had laid them out, and he wanted to make it as clear as possible. Having his brain be able to focus on something else with Jemma in the room helped, and as he explained his thoughts on her project, Fitz himself began to loosen up, so much so that he found himself toeing off his shoes and slipping onto the mattress next to her. 

He wasn’t entirely unaware of where he was or with whom, but the warm press of her shoulder and thigh to his, even through his button down and slacks, was reassuring rather than nerve-wracking. Once he’d explained his thought process, Fitz sat back further into the pillows, and offered Jemma a sheepish smile and shrug. “‘M no’ the best when i’ comes to the organic side o’ stuff like this, so tha’ may need some serious work. But, I though’ I saw somethin’ and wanted t’ stick my two cents in.” 

Fitz’ explanation made sense, and Jemma thought it had a lot of potential, given a bit of tweaking here and there. He easily ran with the questions she had, often finishing them for her and expanding his answers to cover further questions before Jemma even had a chance to vocalize a concern. So when he sat back and behaved as though his ideas were nothing particularly special, Jemma pressed her lips together to hold back a sharper comment as she reached up and pressed a single finger to his lips. 

“Shush. This is great. I mean- We’d have to do a lot of testing, especially since this is an unfamiliar alloy and we’ve no way of knowing if it will work the way you think it will, or if it will interact with my compound, but it’s more than I had this morning. A lot more. I hadn’t thought a bullet would work, but I’m admittedly not particularly knowledgeable about physics and mechanics,” Jemma bubbled. She’d been impressed when she first looked at them earlier, but also distracted. 

Now she was back to impressed, but also pleased and excited and feeling rather warmly affectionate that Fitz had gone out of his way to improve on her project. Even though he’d gone about it all wrong, but Jemma thought a lot of Fitz’ behavior was perpetuated because no one called him out for it. She grabbed her phone and started carefully photographing the pages, eventually asking for Fitz’ email address and sending copies to them both. “There,” Jemma nodded, as she gathered the stack again, careful to keep them in order as she set them on the nightstand. “I feel better having a backup.”

She bit her lip as she looked back at him over her shoulder to find Fitz’ blue eyes fixed on her. “Thank you, Fitz. Really. Not just for this, but for all your help. You really didn’t have to do that today at my presentation, either.” Jemma’s flubbed answer earlier had completely killed what little confidence she’d had, making her want to slink off that platform. The conversation Fitz had drawn her into had successfully bolstered her and shown off many of the applications she’d had trouble circling around to naturally in her presentation. 

Turning back to him, Jemma braced a hand on the bed and leaned in, stretching up a little to press a kiss against his lips. “Don’t try to say it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing. Thank you,” she repeated. 

Her kiss, slow and sweet as it had been, still took Fitz by surprise, and it took him a moment to blink away the cobwebs in his brain before he could answer. “All righ’,” he conceded, “maybe i’ isnae nothin’, bu’ how I’ve acted in the past, i’ was the leas’ I could do.” That was the absolute truth. He’d been so wrapped up in himself as a teen he hadn’t stopped to think about other people at all, not even ones he’d desperately wanted to impress like Jemma. He had every intention of making up for that now. 

Jemma drew back, not wanting to fluster him too badly. They still had a lot things to figure out and given their history, she wanted to be careful with him, at least for a little while. Until they understood each other better in person, more like the way they did in their messages on the forums. She bumped her shoulder against his and grinned. “I’ll let you know when you can stop being a sweetheart, trying to make up for it. Until then… feel free to continue doing nice things,” she teased. 

“In the meantime… I still haven’t had a proper meal,” Jemma pointed out. “And I’m starving. Are you hungry? I’m thinking room service - it’s SHIELD’s money, after all - and a movie sounds like a wonderful plan for the evening.” The party had started at seven, and even with Jemma running late and their trip up to the roof it was only about ten. 

Fitz’ stomach gave a loud, noticeable rumble just as Jemma spoke, and he grinned at her. “You’ll learn tha’ there’s a reason my mum calls me a bottomless pit. I can always eat. Always.” Cutting his eyes to the side, Fitz noticed that the phone was nearest to him, and reached out for it, catching the receiver easily. With it tucked between his shoulder and ear, he hit zero and began ordering as soon as the line went live. 

“Hi, this is room 912, and we’d like a large, sausage, onion and green pepper pizza, with garlic bread. No, tha’s all, we dinnae wan’ -” He was cut off by Jemma’s quick punch to his shoulder, and just managed to muffle his quick protest. The look on her face told him he’d done something wrong, and remembering that he was ordering for himself and a girl, not himself and Trip, quickly realized what it likely was. “Apparently, we wan’ a salad, too. Sure, house dressin’ is fine. 30 minutes? Yeah, tha’s fine. Thanks.”

Food ordered and receiver back in the cradle, Fitz shot Jemma a dark look. “Did you really have t’ hit me quite tha’ hard, lass?”

“Thank you for acknowledging that I might want to eat something with a bit more nutrients,” Jemma smirked, shaking her head at him, “But don’t give me that look. Just because you want pizza doesn’t mean I want pizza. Or that I’m going to eat only salad because I’m a girl.” 

Huffing out a breath, Jemma decided to treat Fitz like she would Bobbi. Like someone she trusted, was already friends with, and now mildly exasperated at. That led to her crawling half over Fitz, her knees on one side of him, one hand braced on the other while she reached for the phone and dialed downstairs again. “Hi, this is room 912 again. Can you add a burger to that order? Medium with the works, and an order of chips. Oh, sorry - I meant fries,” Jemma quickly corrected. “And two sodas, please. Yes, that’s it. Thank you!” Jemma said brightly, setting the handset back on the receiver and maneuvering back across Fitz. 

She grinned at the way he startled when she splayed her hand over his thigh to brace herself as she moved back to sit properly again. “There. Now we’ll both get what we want.” 

The breath whooshed out of his lungs as Fitz watched Jemma lean across his lap to reach the phone, his heart beat going erratic and a sudden lump springing up in his throat. Surely, she wasn’t aware of the picture she presented, or she wouldn’t have done that, not intentionally. She wasn’t that intentionally cruel. Or at least he didn’t think she was. Her sitting back, along with her hand splayed rather high on his thigh, forced Fitz to take his eyes from the curve of her arse, She was smiling brightly, and he was aware that a man like Trip would make some kind of quip about them both getting what they wanted, but that wasn’t him. Not at all. 

“Sorry,” he murmured as Jemma rearranged herself next to him. “Wasnae thinkin’. You, uh, you said somethin’ about a movie?”

“Fiiiiiiitz,” Jemma chided. “I was teasing. Mostly. Just ask me next time, okay?” Fitz still looked a bit grim, and Jemma tipped sideways to bump her shoulder against his, trying to lighten the mood. She hadn’t meant to upset him again. 

His eyes flicked over to her, but they were still dimmed and Jemma sighed. “Three steps forward, two steps back,” she murmured under her breath as she climbed off the bed to fetch her laptop and bring it over to him. “I did mention a movie. I’ve got a bunch on here, take your pick. They’re all favorites of mine, so I’ve no preference.” Jemma quickly woke the machine and navigated through folders until she reached her media storage and pushed the laptop toward him. 

Jemma wasn’t wrong, he had been ready to pull away again, chastising himself for being presumptuous, when his brain caught on what she’d said: “next time.” There was a version of the future in which she imagined them sitting down together for another meal. With that glimmer of hope, Fitz managed to turn his attention to her collection of movies and TV shows. It didn’t take him long to realize just how extensive the collection was, and he turned to her, his expression making it clear that he was impressed, when he felt her settle in against his side once more. 

Grinning when he found the movie he’d been hoping for, Fitz turned to Jemma and nudged her shoulder. “How about The Bourne Identity?” 

The fact that he’d even found the movie on her computer was another point in her favor, as far as Fitz was concerned. Working in a spy organization, not many of their colleagues wanted to watch a fictionalized account of their waking hours, but he liked the dramatized version. Sure, it wasn’t always accurate, and the science was dodgy at best, but it was good for two hours of escapism. 

“That’s fine,” Jemma easily agreed. She’d seen it before, so she didn’t need to really focus on it, and there was plenty of action so he would - hopefully - not get bored and fidgety. Her entire goal for the evening was just to get Fitz to see that there wasn’t anything especially alarming about her, that he could relax in her presence and not be so defensive. Jemma knew how he felt now, he shouldn’t be hiding much of anything else. Or at least, she hoped not. 

She settled the laptop on the bed between them, clicking into the movie and settling back against the pillows to watch. Jemma got caught up enough in the first twenty minutes that the knock on the door made her jump, although she quickly recovered and went to let the waiter push the cart of food into the room. After sending the man on his way, she shook her head at the amount of food they’d ordered. “Ugh, you’re going to have to help me with the chips. I’ll never eat all this,” Jemma admitted, picking up her plates and bringing them over to the bed. There really wasn’t a table to eat at, so they’d have to make do. 

Fitz took the time to pluck a chip off her plate as she returned to her spot on the bed, and gave her a cheeky smile. “I was plannin’ on stealin’ a few from you, anyway,” he teased as he levered himself off the mattress. “You’ve jus’ made i’ easy on me, is all.” 

He wandered over to the cart, and finding a spare plate, pulled a few slices from the pizza and two pieces of garlic bread. Content it would be enough for the time being, he set it on the mattress at the foot of the bed, pausing in his quest for food just long enough to hand Jemma her drink and pick up his own, before he resumed his position next to her. After an hour in her company, and the understanding that provided he didn’t act like a total imbecile she wouldn’t kick him out, he had begun to relax, his legs sprawled before him and shoulders loose as he sank into the pillows. 

Noting the faux-shocked look Jemma was giving him, he teased back, “Wha’? I’ll make i’ worth your while. You can have some o’ the garlic bread and pizza, if you want.” 

Jemma sniffed and moved the plate of chips, putting it on the nightstand so he’d have to climb over her to get to them. “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, you have to eat some of this before you get any chips!” She nudged the bowl of salad toward him, giggling at the horrified expression on his face. “They’re just vegetables, Fitz! Eat!” Jemma encouraged him, even as she focused most of her attention on putting her burger in order. They’d left the top of the bun off, with the lettuce, tomato and onion piled on, instead of delivering a fully constructed hamburger, and Jemma had to make sure everything would hold together properly when she picked it up. 

A second glance told her Fitz was sulking a bit, eating his pizza quietly on the other side of the bed. “Eat some of the salad, Fitz. Please? You’ve been eating junk all day and I’ve barely eaten anything at all. We both need the vitamins and minerals in those vegetables.” 

“There are vegetables on the pizza,” Fitz protested without thinking the argument through, earning him a disbelieving look from the woman lounging next to him. 

She even nagged him prettily, something Fitz found fundamentally unfair. He was tempted to refuse on principle alone (he was a grown man, after all, and could decide what he wanted to eat), but something in the way she looked at him gave him pause. He’d given Jemma enough trouble for one day, he supposed, and if all it would take was a forkful or two of salad, he could choke it down.

“Jus’ t’ be clear,” he muttered, reaching for a fork and stabbing it into the salad dish, gathering as much lettuce and other vegetables that he could, “you’re the firs’ woman since my mum tha’ convinced me t’ eat a bloody salad. Take i’ for wha’ i’s worth.” He shoved the fork into his mouth and chewed as quickly as possible. Fitz repeated the process thrice more, so Jemma wouldn’t nag him about not taking in enough nutrients, and set his fork to the side. “Happy?” 

His words were that of a sullen teen, but the goofy grin he gave her told another story. No, being around Jemma didn’t magically make Fitz enjoy eating healthy food, but he didn’t mind it terribly, either. The payoff of getting to be around her without bickering was worth it. 

Fitz had barely made a dent in the large salad, but it was more than she’d expected, so Jemma relented and put the plate of chips back down between them. She stuck her tongue out at him, childishly, for a brief moment. “Not happy, but I’ll take what I can get,” Jemma fired back, giggling again. The simple relief of having him here with her, not arguing, not defensive or shrugging her off, made her happy enough. It was a start, and anything past this would just be a bonus. 

Jemma clicked the movie back on and turned the lamp off, leaving the room dark except for the light from her laptop as she worked her way through the burger. It might not have been the healthiest choice, but she needed the mix of protein and vegetables and carbs, and Jemma was quiet for a long while, her eyes focused on the screen until one of the big chase scenes, when her eyes cut over to Fitz. “Ugh, is that whole sequence as physically impossible as I think it is?” she scoffed, motioning toward the screen. 

She was terrible about picking at the science in movies, but most of the mechanical things just looked unbelievable and she was too literal minded to completely suspend her disbelief in what was happening on screen. Jemma glanced over to find Fitz was watching her in the darkness and felt her cheeks warm. “What?” 

“Nothin’,” he answered as he gathered his empty plate and set it on the nightstand before sliding down the mattress and reclining fully against the pillows. Feeling lethargic after wolfing down his food, Fitz had allowed himself to be distracted by Jemma, and had been watching her instead of the movie. It all felt so natural, sitting here with her, sharing a meal and watching a movie. He wondered just how many moments like this he’d missed because he hadn’t been able to figure himself out at the Academy. 

Jemma was still looking at him, one brow arched as though she didn’t believe him. Smiling up at her, Fitz shook his head and continued. “I was jus’ thinkin’ tha’ I dinnae know many people who like t’ pick apart the science, too. I’s nice. And you’re no’ wrong. I’s likely air cannons they’re usin’ t’ make the cars jump like tha’. It’d be a million t’ one shot t’ see tha’ happen without one.” 

Her smile shifted to affectionate and rather fond at the way he’d made himself at home on her bed. Jemma was relieved that he’d relaxed and forgotten his nerves, although she still wished he’d smile more. It changed his entire expression, lighting him up, and Jemma decided then and there she was going to make an effort to get him to do so more often. 

“Good to know I’m not totally off base then,” she said, replying to his comment about the air cannons. “It’s rather distracting to watch a movie and go ‘that’s just not possible’ every two minutes. You might want to never let me watch anything with biology or chemistry in it, or I’ll pick it apart. Especially movies about infectious diseases or anything like that. Outbreak, in particular…” Jemma shuddered faintly at the memory of watching the movie, horrified at the level of inaccuracy in the way the virus supposedly ‘mutated’ and changed modes of infection. 

She shrugged out of her line of thought and set her own plate aside to pick at the salad, eating the chopped vegetables on their own rather than fussing with the lettuce and dressing. “Hey… Fitz?” Jemma glanced over at him again, then shook her head before setting the other plate aside too and leaning back into the pillows. “Never mind. It’s silly.” 

“No, none o’ tha’,” Fitz chided, bending his extended leg to nudge Jemma’s calf with his knee. He could understand her hesitation to say something, but he’d meant it on the roof when he promised her no more running or hiding. It wasn’t that Fitz had ever had a problem with being honest, but that had always been with people he hadn’t cared for. He wanted Jemma to like him, which put another spin on it, but he supposed what his mother had always told him would hold true. Honesty would be the best policy. 

“If you willnae let me get away with brushin’ things off, you dinnae get t’ brush ‘em off, either. Tell me wha’ you’re thinkin’.” 

Jemma didn’t expect him to push, and bit her lip as her fingers fidgeted with the blanket next to the laptop that still lay between them. She’d backpedaled on the question because it was likely far too soon to consider, given their circumstances, not because she didn’t still want to ask. But if Fitz really wanted to know, and from his expression, he did, Jemma would tell him. 

“I’m probably getting ahead of myself,” Jemma said shyly, her eyes on the laptop screen even though she wasn’t really watching the movie at this point. “I was just thinking… It always sort of felt like you preferred working alone before, but I’m sort of assuming that we’ll keep working together remotely when we get back to our places. If that happens and if things work well…” 

She flushed again and shrugged one shoulder, feeling a bit awkward now that she was putting her thoughts into words. “It’s a lot of assumptions and ifs, but… If this all works out, would you consider transferring to the Treehouse and try to be my partner again? I mean… it’s Brazil and in the middle of nowhere and there are a multitude of things that could go wrong, but-” 

“Yes,” Fitz blurted, propping himself on an elbow to face her even as he cut her off. It might be crazy after only collaborating online and two days of actual contact, and there was no guarantee that SHIELD would allow for it given their previous attempts to put them together having backfired, but he wanted it very much. He wanted to work with Jemma. 

“I’ve been dyin’ t’ leave the Ranch,” he confessed, drawing himself up to sit against the headboard, the movie entirely forgotten. “I mean, the people are nice, and I’d miss Trip, bu’... I need somethin’ more interestin’ t’ do than run maintenance on the fleet and the occasional tweak.” He leaned in, nudging her with his shoulder. “Somethin’ tells me, workin’ with you, I’d never be bored.” 

“Oh…” Jemma was startled and yet genuinely pleased at Fitz’ immediate agreement, and her blush deepened, heating her skin until even her ears felt hot. “Well, then, I- Oh, I’m really getting ahead of myself. This is likely months away. We’ll have to collaborate more and present it to SHIELD with our findings and make a case for giving us another chance. There’s not all that much technical research going on at the Treehouse, it’s mostly biological because of its location, but I think there’s other opportunities for development and we could test the drones there, collecting readings and samples and such for us, too.” 

Realizing she was babbling, half excited and half nervous, Jemma bit her tongue sharply and cut herself off. As excited as she was about the potential for a partnership, she also needed to consider her feelings about Fitz. Getting involved with a lab partner carried a lot of potential issues with it too, and they still had to figure that out on top of their projects. 

Fitz nodded, his gazed focused on some unseen point just above the laptop screen. Jemma made good points, not that that was surprising, regarding what they’d have to do to convince SHIELD to allow them to work together. Given how much time and effort they’d both expended trying to separate themselves ten years ago, it was likely that the higher ups would refuse on principle alone. They would have to produce intriguing projects to strengthen their case, and pray that whoever had wanted them together before was inclined to want the same thing now. 

“Well,” Fitz began, voice slower than usual as he tried to verbalize his thoughts, “I was hopin’ t’ use the drones t’ catch someone’s attention. Seems t’ me we could use both projects, mine and yours. If I ge’ the biometrics added t’ the drones, you’d be the ideal person for me t’ work with t’ refine them. And nobody’s better with weapons than I am. ‘M the guy you wan’ t’ improve things like your grenades and the like. And they know tha’.”

He glanced over at Jemma, aware that he sounded awfully prideful. “‘M not braggin’,” he insisted, not wanting to worsen her opinion of him, not when things seemed to be looking up. “I’s the truth. I only wound up a’ the Ranch because I wouldnae cooperate with my superiors a’ the Barn. They wanted me t’ focus on food production an’ the like. Not exactly up my alley.” 

Jemma made a face at Fitz’ comment. “I’d said having you working on the fleet was a waste of your talent. That explains why you landed there, at least. But yes, even if they don’t transfer you to the Treehouse, our projects should be more than enough to get you moved out of there.” She couldn’t let herself get stuck on that thought, though, and hurriedly moved on.


	7. Chapter 7

“The weapons though- Honestly, we don’t have much need for high tech weaponry out there. The only way to access the base is by helicopter. I suppose you could trek through the rainforest,” Jemma mused, looking thoughtful as she thought about the likelihood of his expertise being needed, “But it’s a few hundred miles and you’d have to go on foot, knowing exactly where to go and hope none of the local dangers get you. Then you might need the weaponry, but really you’re more likely to die from a venomous bite of some sort than anything you could reasonably shoot.” 

She glanced over and caught Fitz’ expression of dismay and broke into giggles. “Oh, Fitz. What’s that look for?” 

“I think I’ll stick t’ the helicopter, thanks,” Fitz replied with a shake of his head. He much preferred the refuge of a sterile lab than the outdoors. As a child, his cousins hadn’t even been able to convince him to go on so much as a nature walk; the idea of having to fight off a multitude of things that might want to kill him sent his skin crawling. 

The problem of how to get him off the Ranch and into the Treehouse was one they’d have to puzzle through, and it certainly couldn’t be done with just one brainstorming session. Fitz had every intention of leaving her with his number, so they could figure it out without having to go through the forums. It’d be safer that way. But for now, he didn’t want to focus so much on that as just speaking to her. 

“Le’s focus on wha’ we can do,” he said, trying to turn Jemma’s attention away from the problem of working together for the time being. “We refine our projects the way we’ve discussed. And if the higher ups like wha’ we’ve done, we tell them they ge’ more o’ the like if they put us together. Engineers are always needed, even if the job description changes a bi’. Hopefully, they’ll feel the same way in Brazil.” 

He nudged her with his shoulder again, and when Jemma looked up at him, leaned in to kiss her. Feeling caught in an odd limbo, more confident than he’d been on the roof but still uncertain if he was kissing her the way she liked, he kept the contact brief. “I mean i’, lass,” he whispered once he pulled away, “we’ll figure i’ out. Two geniuses like us should be able t’ manage somethin’ like this.” 

Jemma nodded, seeing his point. She knew she’d been ahead of herself, but had gotten caught in the possibilities rather than the practical. Fitz’ words drew her back to the immediate steps to be taken rather than the potential ones down the line. “I have some other projects that you might be able to help with,” she pointed out. “These aren’t the only ones I have going, just the more critical ones.”

“I have your email, but you should probably give me your phone number too.” She started to reach for her phone, but turned back when Fitz bumped her shoulder, into his unexpected kiss. It made her realize he hadn’t really initiated any of their previous kisses and Jemma found herself a bit disappointed when Fitz drew back so quickly. 

“Of course we’ll manage,” she said confidently. “If we can’t get what we want, there’s something wrong.” Which would likely be SHIELD bureaucracy, if anything, but again - Jemma was probably better off not thinking about that. 

“Righ’,” Fitz murmured, answering her question, but his attention was elsewhere. He’d seen something flicker across Jemma’s face after he’d kissed her, and was trying to place what it was. He assumed she didn’t object to him kissing her, as she hadn’t pulled away, and that she still wanted him to stick around, otherwise she wouldn’t still be thinking about their working together. He watched her for a moment more, his eyes finally settling on her lips as she finished speaking. 

There was really only one way to get better at kissing, Fitz knew that much, and he’d only stop being nervous if he kept trying. The movie entirely forgotten, he leaned into her once more, bringing his far hand around to cup her cheek and tilt her mouth up toward his as he tried kissing her again. This time, he forced himself to relax into it, and tried to mimic what Jemma had done earlier, alternating pressure and even daring to let his tongue dart out to swipe against her lower lip. 

Jemma wasn’t expecting the second kiss, or the ones that followed it. The laptop between them blocked her instinctive move toward Fitz, but their upper bodies ended up leaning toward each other across the pillows and they made it work, too distracted to simply move the laptop. It was probably for the best, really, Jemma thought to herself. Fitz was still figuring out how to even kiss her, even though he was learning quickly and just the hesitant brushes of his tongue against her lip had her skin pebbling. 

Eventually Jemma twisted up onto her knees, pushing Fitz back a little and crawling past the laptop onto his side of the bed. She landed half on top of him, giggling out her nervousness, when she lost her balance halfway across. “Oof, sorry!” Jemma said, blushing. “That… didn’t work quite the way I expected.” 

Her laugh was infectious, and warmed him enough that he forgot his own nerves. After all, with Jemma atop him, giggling and kissing him, what worries could he possibly have? “I’s okay,” he whispered as he tugged her close, trying to encourage her to squeeze onto the thin strip of mattress between him and the laptop. “C’mere.”

Feeling better about himself given how Jemma enthusiastic seemed about being near to him, Fitz was daring enough to bring a hand up to cup the back of her head. He was simply mimicking what he’d seen in movies and TV, but he figured that was as good a place to draw from as any, and drew Jemma in for another lengthy kiss. 

Jemma craned backward, reaching for her computer and closing it before pushing it aside to give herself more room. She hesitated for a moment, distracted by the darkness now that even the light from the laptop had disappeared, before returning her attention to Fitz. She was about to apologize again when his hand slid around, fingers curving around the back of her head. 

It wasn’t as though Jemma had been in a lot of relationships or anything - none, really, just the occasional hookup - but she had a bit of a weakness when it came to being kissed. She really liked for her partners to use their hands, either like this, or cupping her jaw. It succeeded in turning Jemma’s overactive brain to mush when hardly anything else ever did. For Fitz to do it, Jemma didn’t stand a chance. 

She let out a little mumble of encouragement against his lips and melted against him. 

Sinking back into the pillows, Fitz found he quite liked kissing, although he suspected that had more to do with the fact that he was kissing Jemma than anything else. He managed to wind his arm around her, and between that and his hand cupping the back of her head, he tugged her against him, pressing chest flush against his. Her weight was slight and reassuring, and as he swept his tongue into her mouth, tentatively tangling with Jemma’s, Fitz gave a contented sigh. He knew the thought was ludicrous, but it didn’t stop it from bubbling to the forefront of his conscious. In that moment, Fitz was certain that he could easily spend the rest of his life just kissing Jemma. 

It took a bit of gentle encouragement and a few quiet suggestions, but eventually they both settled in, tangled up in each other. Jemma eventually slid down to Fitz’ side, drawing him up to face her, one of her legs between his, arms wound around each other and hands tentatively exploring. Her heart skipped or pattered each time she drew a soft noise from him or when he found an especially sensitive spot on her body. 

After some time, Jemma drew back from Fitz’ mouth, biting her lip as she unbuttoned the top buttons on Fitz’ shirt. He made a disappointed noise, but she shushed him quickly, giving a mischievous little smile as she ducked down to press kisses across his newly-exposed collarbone. “Silly Fitz,” Jemma murmured against his neck. “Just follow along. And tell me if you don’t like something.”

Fitz could just make out Jemma in the sparse light that filtered in through the sheer curtains, his eyes blown wide and heart racing as her fingers began undoing his buttons. He’d just settled into kissing her, and the feeling of her hands wandering over his back and sides. Eyebrows quirking in a silent question at her warning, he braced himself, breathing going shallow as he anticipated the slide of Jemma’s lips against his skin. 

Inexperienced as he was, Fitz had never thought of his neck or shoulders as being particularly sensitive, but Jemma was clearly dead set on proving him wrong. He whimpered as her tongue ran along his pulse, and outright moaned when she nipped at his shoulder, exposed now thanks to the quick work her nimble fingers had made of the rest of his buttons. Her fingers skimming over his stomach had him sucking in a sharp breath, and he set his teeth in his lower lip, on edge as he waited to see just what she’d do next. 

Jemma was content with where they were, though, and didn’t wander as far as Fitz might have expected - or perhaps, hoped. Now, if Fitz returned the favor on Jemma’s very, very sensitive neck and ears, she might be in a bit of trouble, but as it was, she could focus on Fitz and introducing him to the fun of simply making out with someone. 

After spending more time on his neck and shoulders, Jemma eventually came up to trace a slow pattern just under Fitz’ ear with her tongue before nipping his earlobe. He was hard against her hip, occasionally rocking against her and letting out a soft gasp or whimper, but he wasn’t being pushy about it. Half the time Jemma didn’t think Fitz was even aware of the little sounds he was making, and even that managed to turn her on. 

He had never, ever, except in his wildest dreams, thought he would be in a bed, with Jemma Simmons, her mouth on his neck as he writhed beneath her, although he was trying not to deliberately grind against her. If he’d been capable of logical thought, he would have realized that he should be reciprocating, but his mind would register nothing other than the sensation she was causing to dance down his spine. 

When she stopped, nose brushing against his, Fitz managed to jar himself into action. His hands found her hips, and his fingers dug in as his mouth found her own. It was sloppy, his excitement keeping him from kissing her with any finesse at first, but he eventually managed it, nipping lightly at her lower lip. He couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of his throat when Jemma jumped, surprised he’d tried that, and broke the kiss. 

His head dropped back as he continued to laugh, and his hands lifted off of Jemma’s hips so he could wind his arms about her waist. “‘M sorry,” he gasped out as she shifted, accidentally brushing against his erection. “‘M not laughin’ a’ you, I jus’... I never would have though’ in a million years tha’ we’d ever….” He trailed off, craning his neck up, and catching Jemma behind the head once more, and affectionately nuzzled his nose against hers before kissing her again. “‘M jus’ happy is all.”

His words were whispered against her mouth, his lips stretched wide in a smile.

Jemma wished the lights were on then, so she could see his face and revel in the knowledge that she’d managed to crack the grumpy Scot’s exterior. It was something Jemma had never imagined she’d see, much less be the cause of, never mind the shiver that went through her at the low rasp of Fitz’ laughter and the press of his arms around her. 

Even though Jemma was naturally affectionate, she’d never found herself wanting to stay close to someone like this, keeping a firm line between the people she took to bed and the ones she considered friends. Hell, she’d cuddled up to Bobbi on more nights than she cared to think about, but never thought of the other woman as anything else. Fitz on the other hand… she’d hate to lose this. 

Despite her own arousal, and Fitz’ clear interest in going further, Jemma returned Fitz’ nuzzle then wriggled down and back until she could lay her head on his chest. She still hadn’t made up her mind if she wanted to cross that line with him yet, drawing back to give them both a bit of time to cool down and think with (mostly) clear heads. “It’s okay,” she said quietly, her own contented little smile showing in her tone, “I knew what you meant.” 

Fitz was disappointed when she slid down his body to pillow her head on his chest, but he bit it back. The feeling of Jemma’s breath against the bare skin of his chest was distracting, but nowhere near as much as the feeling of her lips on his neck, and he was able to focus more than he’d been before. He craned his neck to glance at the bedside table, and seeing the late hour, groaned and allowed his head to fall back to the pillow. 

“I’s late,” he grumbled, hands drawing lazy patterns on Jemma’s back. In truth, it wasn’t the hour he was upset about, but the fact that with each passing minute, the closer they came to the end of the conference. Which meant it would be back to their respective labs in separate parts of the world, and no more kissing or cuddling. Fitz had never been a cuddler to begin with, although he was starting to see why people seemed to enjoy it so, and he would miss being able to be close to Jemma like this. He was confident that he wouldn’t be this comfortable lying this close with anyone else. 

Fitz would have been more than happy to fall asleep there, but didn’t want to assume Jemma would want him in her space for so long. He knew he was prickly about that, and didn’t want to push her to let him stay if she wanted her own bed for the night. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if there was protocol for asking a girl you’d just been making out with if you could at least stay and cuddle. 

“Um,” he began, voice sleepy but still uncertain, “did you, tha’ is, can I… Did you wan’ me t’ go back t’ my own room? I’d like t’ stay, but ‘m no’ sure if you -”

Jemma lifted her head to stare down at him, her face barely visible in the darkness but her brows were drawn sharply together. “Don’t be an idiot,” Jemma murmured, shaking her head. “I only get another twelve hours or so with you, I’m not going to waste them sending you back to your room.” She withdrew from him though, flopping almost bonelessly onto the other half of the bed and moving her laptop to the nightstand. “Go ahead and strip down to your boxers, if you want. I can’t imagine you’ll be comfortable sleeping in those clothes. 

Sharing a bed with Fitz was the least of Jemma’s worries. It was a queen size mattress and they were both thin - even if one or both of them wanted space to sleep, there was plenty. Jemma didn’t think that would be an issue though. She tended to gravitate toward the warmest spot in the bed until she got overheated and moved away. Right now, that was definitely Fitz. He radiated heat in the cool of the room, and Jemma was more than happy to snuggle back in, even without any romantic overtones to their cuddling. 

She wasn’t especially sleepy yet, but she would be in short order once she let herself relax. Fitz hadn’t moved, and Jemma glanced over to find him looking at her. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Was it the clothes thing? I just- I’m a biologist, Fitz. It’s not like I haven’t seen a male body before.” 

The easy way she suggested he strip out of his clothing stunned Fitz, leaving him staring at her as though she’d grown another head. Logically, he knew it was really no different than her running into him at the swimming pool. Certainly his swimming trunks left him as exposed as his boxers, but to Fitz, it felt incredibly intimate. To complicate things further for him, the quick way Jemma brushed it off left him blushing, and thankful for the dark of the room. 

Trusting that she was being honest with him, Fitz slipped off the mattress with a nod and simple, “All righ’,” leaving him to stand at the side of the bed. He glanced in her direction once, and seeing that she was busying herself turning down the sheets and comforter on her side, tugged his button down out of his trousers and finished the job Jemma had begun, quickly undoing the remaining buttons. Once he was done, he tossed it over the armchair that was near the bed, his pants and socks following shortly. 

The air conditioned air of Jemma’s room left his skin pebbled with gooseflesh, which made it all the more easy for Fitz to slip into bed next to her without second guessing himself too badly. He debated keeping to his half of the mattress, not wanting to seem too pushy or eager, but caught himself. Jemma had just been on top of him, rather eagerly kiss his mouth, neck and chest. He was wanted here, by her. That gave him the confidence to turn onto his side to face her, and inch toward the center of the mattress until he could feel Jemma’s body heat radiating off her. That done, he risked reaching a hand out to her, catching her at the waist and holding there. Simply having that point of contact with her was enough to make him smile and sigh happily with his contentment. 

“G’nigh’, Jemma,” he murmured, eyes already feeling heavy. “Sleep tigh’.” 

Jemma carefully averted her eyes, not wanting to embarrass him further, but she couldn’t help sneaking a glance or two. He was a bit too thin, she noted, wondering if he forgot to eat as often as she did when he got caught up in working. She thought there might be a bit of muscle up around the shoulders, too, but he turned back to slide under the covers with her and she looked away again. It wasn’t like her to be finicky about bodies, so it didn’t especially matter anyway. Jemma liked her own well enough, although her wide hips felt a bit out of proportion to everything else. 

Fitz’ arm snaked out and over her waist and Jemma couldn’t help her pleased smile. Wriggling further under his arm, she twisted to face him. Jemma unselfconsciously twined herself around Fitz’s body and nudged his chin up to make room, letting her sleepily nuzzle in against his chest and shoulder. Eventually, she let out a soft hum of contentment, warm and comfortable curled there under the blankets with him. 

Even though Jemma knew there were a lot of things they still needed to figure out, just being able to be close to him, to have Fitz talk to her without his prior attitude, feeling like they might be able to put the past behind them…. It gave her hope. He’d always been so insanely brilliant, had such great ideas, but she’d never thought he’d get past his dislike of her to bring any of them to fruition. Finding out now, so long later, that she’d made him so very nervous… They’d wasted so much time. Then again, they’d both been so very young. There was nothing to say they wouldn’t have imploded at some point, too young and inexperienced to have been in that sort of a partnership at only 17. 

She could muse on the what-ifs all night, probably, but Jemma shook herself out of her circling thoughts, letting Fitz’ body heat relax her from head to toe. Along with the scent of whatever cologne that was, because it smelled amazing on him. Jemma left one last affectionate nuzzle against Fitz’ collarbone before she truly settled down. “‘Night, Leo,” she mumbled softly against his skin. 

The way Jemma made herself right at home in his arms, face pressed against his chest as she sleepily nuzzled closer, caused Fitz’ stomach to swoop, and his heart stuttered when he heard his given name drop so easily from her lips. For as long as he could remember, he’d hated his given name, an unwanted memento from a man who’d left him and his mother long ago, and had always tried to distance himself from it. But, the way Jemma said it, soft and affectionate, made him reconsider. 

Feeling more hopeful than he had before, Fitz nestled himself further beneath the covers, and after pressing a lingering kiss to Jemma’s forehead, shut his own eyes. He’d half expected a sleepless night, too energized by what had happened with Jemma and too jumpy with all of her soft curves pressed against him, but Fitz had been wrong. Warm, and feeling wanted, he drifted off into a sweet, dreamless sleep. 

Early the next morning - so early there wasn’t even sunlight peeking through the curtains yet - Jemma woke in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in unfamiliar arms. It took her a long moment, body still and tense, to place herself back into waking reality and remember where she was. 

Jemma had managed to turn over sometime in the night, leaving Fitz spooned up against her back, one of his arms under her neck and head, the other draped heavily over her waist and curled up between her breasts. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so solidly, or been quite so comfortable tucked in against someone. Perhaps there was something to be said for snuggling up to someone closer to her own size rather than taller and larger people. Everything just lined up better, so it truly was like spoons nested in a drawer. 

Fitz shifted restlessly behind her and Jemma froze, not wanting to disturb him, but it only gave her good reason to acknowledge her thought was very much true. The curve of her arse was tucked into the cradle of Fitz’ hips, their legs aligned, and Jemma could feel when Fitz’ sleeping body took interest in her presence there. As many reasons as Jemma had for not taking advantage of Fitz’ presence in her bed, or his innocence, they were still going to be separated in a few short hours and who knew how long it would be before they had the chance to be together again. Jemma knew she’d fight for him now. Probably fight with him sometimes, too, but now that she knew he was interested in more… 

His arm tightened around her and Jemma snuggled back into his hold. “Morning,” she said, barely a whisper, in case he was only adjusting in his sleep and not truly awake yet. 

Jemma’s movements, first her stiffening against him and then her gentle shifting, slowly pulled Fitz into the realm of consciousness. A heavy sleeper, he didn’t snap directly awake, his brain moving sluggishly, and only able to process one thing at a time. He was warm. He was in bed. There was someone with him. Someone who was pressed fully against him and smelled slightly floral. Someone who smelled like Jemma. 

Remembering who he was in bed with, Fitz murmured happily and nuzzled closer, his mouth finding its way to the nape of her neck. “Mornin’,” he murmured, lips brushing inadvertently against the soft skin there. If he’d been more experienced, he would have recognized that at least part of what had woken him was arousal, thanks to Jemma’s arse pressed against his erection, but as it was his mind was blissfully simplistic. 

He was warm and content. Jemma was the reason for that, and so he saw no reason why he shouldn’t at least try to get closer. That decided Fitz, and he snugged his arm about her more firmly, rooting her against him in the hopes of staving off true wakefulness a few moments more. 

Jemma’s neck had always been sensitive, and the gentle, inadvertent touch of Fitz’ lips made her shiver in his hold. She tipped her head back against his shoulder and rubbed her cheek, catlike, against Fitz’ rather than try to crane around for kisses, lazily affectionate. 

Her fingers found his, too, twining together over her chest. The last thing Jemma wanted was for Fitz to move away and leave her alone and cold, especially not when Jemma was realizing that she really wanted nothing more than to be closer to him. “Mm. Don’t move,” Jemma murmured, encouraging him to stay close, “This’s nice.”

Were he awake and able to see his expression, Fitz might have cringed at the smitten grin he wore, but as it was, he was content with his lot in life at the moment. Eager to please Jemma, he gave their joined fingers a small squeeze before wiggling his entire body a bit closer. If the woman wanted him to stay, who was he to refuse?

“Nice,” he agreed, still mumbling against her neck. “No,” he corrected, “better than nice. Migh’ be perfec’. We’d have t’ test tha’ though. Lots and lots o’ testin’.” 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma sighed fondly. Despite what she’d just said, she shifted, first onto her back and then up again on her side to face him. Trying to find the spot from the night before when she’d fallen asleep, Jemma tangled herself up with him, deliberately ignoring his arousal until she’d made up her mind if she wanted to do anything about that. 

“Does this mean no testin’?” Fitz asked, more than a bit confused as he sleepily blinked at her. Even with his vision clouded with sleep, he thought Jemma looked beautiful, her hair falling out of its elastic to float against her cheek. His brow unfurled, his befuddlement giving way to the pleasure of being wrapped up in her, and his features relaxed. This was nice, too, although now that he he was waking up a bit more, he had to work harder to ignore the way she had pressed their hips together. 

Trying to take his mind off that, he began to run his hands up and down her back. On one of his passes, his fingers caught on the hem of her tank, giving him access to the small of her back. Fascinated by the softness of her skin, even there, Fitz allowed his fingertips to wander there as his eyes slipped shut again and he ducked his head, resting his cheek next to Jemma’s. “If we’re puttin’ i’ t’ a vote, ‘m all for testin’.” 

“You can’t test like this?” Jemma teased, “Because this is nice, too. Better, since I can see you now. And-” she leaned up to press a soft, short kiss at the corner of Fitz’ mouth, “Kiss you. And touch.” Her fingers traced a lingering path up and down Fitz’ spine, her smile going a bit crooked at his reaction. 

It was amazing to her, how easily, once they’d elected to move beyond their memories of the Academy, they’d slid into this new layer of interaction. If someone had told Jemma yesterday morning that she’d be waking up snuggled into bed with Fitz, her hands splayed over his bare skin and kissing him, Jemma would have suggested a psychiatric evaluation and yet, here she was. 

“You know i’s no’ scientifically sound,” Fitz teased, pausing to return her kiss. While he had a reputation for sleeping in, he wouldn’t have considered himself one to laze about in bed all day while he was awake, but if he could have Jemma with him… well that would be another story entirely. 

“T’ be valid, we’d have t’ test the same spot again and again.” He paused as Jemma scratched her nails lightly over his back, sending shivers across his shoulders and down his arms thanks to how unbearably good it felt. “Bu’ I see nothin’ wrong with runnin’ multiple experiments a’ once… do you?” His words were wheedling as he brushed his nose against hers before kissing her full on the mouth. As far as Fitz was concerned, he’d be willing to forego breakfast and the conference’s keynote speaker if Jemma would just let him do this some more. 

Jemma lifted her head to peer over Fitz’ shoulder at the digital clock on the nightstand before her eyes swung back to his in the dark room. “It’s not even sunrise yet… We have plenty of time,” she said softly, wincing a bit at her own phrasing. They might have plenty of time this morning, but in general they really didn’t. She ducked her head against Fitz’ shoulder for a moment, dragging in a deep breath.

The next, she’d made up her mind. She wasn’t leaving this bloody hotel without making sure they knew exactly what they were to each other and staking her claim on him. Jemma’s fingers found Fitz’ scruffy jaw with both hands, setting heated kisses against his mouth. She didn’t let go until she was convinced he wasn’t going to move, and even then she only let her hands move down to wander his chest, exploring.

The way Jemma had gone stiff against him and ducked her head against his shoulder, Fitz had half braced himself to hear her tell him he’d overstepped. He had half of his apology on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill over when she looked him in the eye. Even in the low light, he could see something had changed there, her beautiful hazel eyes practically throwing sparks and knocking half the air from his lungs. The kiss she laid on him next finished the job, and Fitz was suddenly trying to keep up. 

He was learning that there was a sort of flavor to kisses, and while this wasn’t more overtly aggressive, there was an undercurrent of heat that burned the last of his sleepy haze away. Her hands were just as determined as her lips, leaving Fitz shuddering as her nails scratched lightly over sensitive spots he hadn’t realized were there. Taking her wandering hands as tacit permission, he allowed his own to light on her hips, fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of her top. Jemma’s skin was soft, inconceivably so, and Fitz couldn’t have stopped himself from wondering if she was just as soft everywhere, or the whimper that escaped him, if he’d tried. 

Pleased by Fitz’ reactions, Jemma smiled against his mouth, widening further at his whimper. At least until his hands slid entirely under her thin camisole, all warm skin and slight roughness from his calluses as his fingers splayed over her back. The noise she made then was rather close to a purr. “Mmm. You can do more of that,” Jemma murmured, pressing into his touch. 

She bit her lip when he drew back a little to look at her. “I mean it, Fitz. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but.... feel free.” Hopefully he’d take the gentle encouragement and explore her much as she’d done to him last night. Just the thought of his mouth against her neck again, much less her ears or shoulders or anywhere else, had Jemma trembling in anticipation. 

Taking her at her word, Fitz splayed his hands wide and began to inch them upward, taking the thin camisole with them. Even he wasn’t so oblivious as to miss the way she shivered when his fingers just skimmed the undersides of her breasts, and he did it again, mind caught halfway between trying to gauge her reactions and wonder at having his hands on Jemma. 

Deciding that overthinking was the worst possible thing he could do at this moment, he leaned in to kiss her, far more confident now than he’d been the night before. She melted against him, sighing into the kiss and emboldening Fitz enough so that he felt comfortable shifting his weight over her, encouraging Jemma onto her back. 

From his new position, settled between her legs and propped above her on a single elbow, Fitz felt more comfortable allowing his mouth to wander. He trailed his lips over her jaw, and nuzzling against her neck, began to lay a line of kisses there, too. His free hand was far from idle, making sweeping passes along the dip of Jemma’s waist, mapping the skin there by touch and eventually finding its way back up to cup her breast. Taking a moment to breathe in against her collarbone, Fitz arched his thumb up and over her, testing the motion and pressing soft kisses against her upper chest. 

Jemma was surprised by, but certainly not unhappy with, Fitz taking the initiative and pinning her to the bed. If anything, she was pleased that he was comfortable enough to do so without her prompting. Once he started exploring though, her mind was focused on Fitz and his hands and his mouth and what he could do with them, her skin sensitive to the least touch. 

She bit her lip sharply, moaning softly in the back of her throat when Fitz’ thumb skimmed up and over her. Jemma’s fingers curled around the back of his head after that, drawing Fitz down for more kisses and losing herself in them. 

From there on, she stopped worrying quite so much about right and wrong and what might happen between them in the future, simply letting herself be with him. Between the kisses and caresses, there were a few giggles at awkward moments, a soft apology or two when something didn’t work… Eventually they lay sated in the circle of each other’s arms, Fitz’s head cradled against Jemma’s chest while he caught his breath and Jemma’s body finished shivering through the last of a third orgasm.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a sharp reminder that they were working on borrowed time, and this afternoon they’d be on separate flights going to separate bases. His heart clenched at the thought, and the realization that he had no idea when he might see her again. That simply wouldn’t do. She was a wonder, an absolute wonder, and there, with Jemma’s heartbeat thudding away beneath his cheek, Fitz knew he couldn’t be without her. He wanted her, all of her, more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, and damned if he wasn’t going to keep her. 

“I-” He paused, searching for the right words. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his nerves showing plainly on his face. There were a multitude of things he wanted to tell her, things he needed Jemma to know, but none of them felt exactly right. “Chris’, is i’ too much t’ say tha’ I already know I’ll miss you terribly?” 

Jemma bit her lip, feeling almost shy at the eager and adoring expression she could see on Fitz’ face with the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. Just a couple of days ago, she’d seen him laughing at Trip and felt pained that she’d never caused him any sort of happiness or amusement, only trouble. Now, twined together in her hotel bed, his blue eyes bright and his arms holding her close, all Jemma could do was tip her head down to lay her forehead against Fitz’, her fingers tunneled into his short curls.

He was still a bit sweaty from their exertion, his scalp damp under her fingertips, and Jemma took more than a little pride in that and the way Fitz still seemed a bit dazed. It wasn’t as if she’d never had sex before, but it had never been like this, slow and sweet, intimate, with someone who was entirely awed to be with her. Jemma had needed to teach him a few things, but that was to be expected. More importantly, Fitz took instruction well. Very well. And his hands… Jemma shivered at the memory of just how talented and dexterous those long fingers could be. 

When he finally gathered himself to say something, Jemma knew before he even opened his mouth - she could feel his indrawn breath and the way his shoulders lifted under the curve of her arms. Waiting on Fitz to come around to the right words, she giggled softly at what eventually came out. “Oh, Fitz,” she murmured affectionately. “You think I’m going to give you time to miss me? I’ve your email and phone number now and we’ve got work to do to convince SHIELD to put us in the same place again.” 

She stroked her fingers through Fitz’ hair and down his neck, petting and soothing him back into quiet against her. “The only good thing is that neither of us are too used to this,” Jemma noted with a sigh, referring to the kissing and cuddling and sex. “So hopefully we won’t miss it as much.” 

The gentle scratching of Jemma’s nails against his scalp and the nape of his neck lulled an already drowsy Fitz further. Eyes shut, he nuzzled his cheek against her breast with a happy sigh. She was right, he knew, that there would be texts and emails and phone calls, when time permitted, but it wouldn’t be enough. Not after this, getting to see this side of Jemma, and after making love to her. 

“I’ll still miss you, lass,” he mumbled against her skin, trying not to let sadness overwhelm him. He had spent his waking hours listening to Jemma gasp and moan as she writhed beneath him; Fitz had absolutely no reason to feel sad. Other than knowing they’d be apart soon. “I’s no’ the same, you know?” He had never thought of himself as a particularly tactile person, shying away from extended periods of contact to date. But here, with Jemma, he thought he could certainly get used to having someone to hug and touch, even if it was something as simple as brushing his hands over her shoulders. 

It seemed this week was going to be full of learning experiences for Jemma. Just as she’d never seen Fitz truly happy before, she’d also never seen him like this. Quiet, certainly, and grumpy and sarcastic and walled-off, but never openly sad. She’d always been sensitive to feedback from him, and his emotional state bled over, dampening Jemma’s soft, affectionate mood. “Shh, Fitz. We’ll be okay,” she murmured, lips against his hair. 

Jemma was trying not to think about missing him. After all, it seemed impossible to actively miss something she’d only had for less than a day. If anything, she thought she’d be impatient once she got back to the Treehouse. There were hundreds of files on her hard drive there with notes and ideas, a lot of things she’d never even gotten around to exploring, others she’d started on and had to drop for various reasons. She would put money on Fitz having a similar stockpile of material lurking about somewhere. 

“I bet we can make this happen in three months,” Jemma said, drawing his head up so she could look at him. “If we really focus on the drones and my dendrotoxin… We could have both projects ready to go in a month, run them through the forums and testing, and have them presented and pitch the transfer to SciOps by the end of month two. A few weeks for the paperwork to go through, give or take, and you could be moving to the Treehouse with me.” 

Her suggestion that it might only take three months instead of six made Fitz smile. Lifting off Jemma, he tipped himself to the side and pressed against her, his arm draping across her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. The speculative tone she used had gotten his mind whirring. It didn’t seem all that different from the problem sets they’d been given at the Academy, or how competitive everyone had been about them. Perhaps if he thought of their projects in a similar manner, they could shorten even that time. 

“Three months migh’ be a bi’ long. I think we could shorten even tha’, given proper motivation.” Fitz stroked his fingers over the curve of her hip, and nibbled his lower lip as he looked at her, nervous as to how the insinuation might play. He’d said plenty of inappropriate things by accident before, but purposely trying to lead Jemma’s mind there was another thing entirely. 

He nuzzled against her neck and placed a kiss against her jaw, just below her ear, before he settled against Jemma once more. “Wha’s i’ like?” Fitz asked, voice quiet. “The Treehouse, I mean. You’ve mentioned a bi’, but ‘m curious.” He was happy to move there for Jemma alone, but he couldn’t help but wonder about the base he’d potentially be calling home in the future. Other than knowing it was in Brazil, ungodly hot, and apparently surrounded by a multitude of poisonous things, his knowledge of where she lived was shamefully limited. 

“Three months, Fitz,” Jemma said firmly, although the corner of her mouth twitched up at the ‘proper motivation’ comment. “These projects aren’t the only things we have to work on. I do have other responsibilities at the Treehouse and you have things at the Ranch. They won’t do us any good if we’re in trouble for not doing the rest of our jobs in the meantime.” Her fingers found his arm where it was wrapped over her belly, mapping out the curve of the brachioradialis muscle, simply for the pleasure of touching him. 

She tipped her head at Fitz’ question about her base, shivering when his breath washed over her ear. “The Treehouse… It’s not a huge place, but it’s active. There are about eighty of us from SciOps, another thirty or so from Communications. Maybe another thirty support staff. Takes a three hour helicopter ride to Bogota or Manaus to get to anywhere resembling modern civilization, it’s that remote.” Jemma heard Fitz suck in a breath, and glanced toward him. “SHIELD spent a lot of money building the place, Fitz. Don’t worry. There’s running water and proper plumbing and all that. It’s a modern base.” 

Turning under his arm, Jemma shifted to face him, close enough she could almost brush her nose against his. “The apartments are the best part. Someone designed them to be up above the rainforest canopy, so there’s sunlight. I think I might go a bit crazy if I had to live down below all the time.” 

Just when Fitz thought there was no way for him to like Jemma more than he already did, she revealed another side to herself that endeared him to her further. Seeing the way her face went soft talking about the base, he knew there was no way he could ever ask her to transfer anywhere else. She was clearly happy in Brazil. He could learn to live with the heat and poisonous things if it meant Jemma was happy. 

“You had me a’ runnin’ water and electricity.” He brushed a quick kiss against her mouth and held her close. “And the view doesnae sound half bad.” Before he knew it, Fitz was getting ahead of himself a bit, allowing his mind to wander and daydreaming about what his life in Brazil might be like. He could see himself working in the lab, same as all the other SHIELD facilities, helping Jemma with her dendrotoxin weapons and developing other projects specific to the Treehouse. He wondered if with Jemma’s tutelage he might not be able to make more friends, too. But the best part of what he imagined was being able to come home to Jemma each night, in one of those treetop apartments. 

Grinning widely, Fitz moved to kiss her again when something occurred to him, causing him to pull back abruptly. “Wai’... are there monkeys?”

Jemma laughed at his comments, only to still when he drew away from her so suddenly. Immediately thinking she’d done something wrong, her face fell and she braced for some sort of criticism. What she got was so completely unexpected that it threw her for a long moment before the question registered. “Monkeys? Of course there are monkeys. Fitz, it’s the rainforest. There are numerous indigenous species. I’ve seen a few I haven’t even been able to find records of to tell you what species they are.” 

Her brows furrowed, still confused as to what monkeys had to do with anything. Unable to read his wide-eyed, expectant expression, Jemma’s lips pursed and she drew her arm back, feeling a bit defensive. It wasn’t that she objected to transferring, but not over something as silly as monkeys. “Is there something wrong with monkeys? If so, we have a problem, because they’re around rather a lot. Even up on the apartment balconies, sometimes.” 

Fitz didn’t hear a word of her warning, though, his mind already racing with the thought of living somewhere with monkeys. Visions of tamarinds and marmosets, capuchin and spider, all kinds of monkeys running through his living quarters and lab had him buzzing in excitement, his questions spilling out in a rush. 

“How many do you ge’ t’ see in a day? Has anyone ever tried t’ train one? They’re smart enough t’ train… I be’ they’d be perfec’ lab assistants…”

Jemma shook her head at his rambling. He couldn’t possibly be serious. Except when she looked at him it was clear Fitz was quite serious. What Jemma had taken as apprehension was instead avid interest and he was off on a complete tangent from where Jemma had thought the conversation was heading. “They’re frightfully intelligent, but they’re wild animals, Fitz. The base commander has strictly forbidden us from interacting with them any more than necessary. They’re accustomed to us, which is bad enough.” 

When he continued babbling, Jemma reached up and caught his face in her palms. “Fitz. Fitz. No monkey assistants. I mean it.” 

“Bu’, with their little hands they could be so bloody useful! I wouldnae have t’ use tweezers t’ get into the tighter spaces! Jus’ imagine i’, Jemma, they could hang from the ceilin’ while they work. They’d be space-savin’, really!”

As soon as he looked into her eyes, though, Fitz knew it was for naught. Her expression left no room for argument, and with a downward twist of his lips, he settled again and sighed softly. He could practically hear the arguments Jemma would use against him: they were wild, they couldn’t be that well trained, human interaction would harm them in the long run, they would drop fur in their experiments… all reasonable arguments against simian assistants, but he still felt put out. 

“I dinnae suppose you’d even le’ me keep one as a pet, lass?” Fitz gave her his best begging expression, hoping that it might strengthen the incredibly long odds that she would say yes to his request. 

“That’s a very cute look on you,” Jemma admitted when he attempted to beg. With those big blue eyes and the blondish curls, he managed puppy eyes better than she would have expected from someone who was usually a bit snarky and grumpy. “But the answer is still no.” 

Fitz’ face fell and Jemma shook her head at him, leaning forward to rub her nose against his for a brief moment and leave a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. “Besides, wild animals are at their best when they’re left to live in their natural habitat. You’ll see. They’re so different than the ones you see in the zoo. More active, more vocal. Fascinating, really. Just like most things in the rainforest. The flora and fauna are just spectacular and we have so much left t-” 

Her own babbling was cut off by a rolling crescendo of piano music, and Jemma groaned. 8 am. Four hours left, including breakfast and a keynote speech, and they both needed to get cleaned up and dressed before then. She twisted backward long enough to snag her phone from the nightstand and swipe the snooze option before turning back to Fitz and burying her face against his neck and chest. 

The ringing of the alarm cut off any protest Fitz had thought to make against Jemma’s argument. Well, that and the way she had slipped into assuming he would be living down in Brazil with her eventually. He wasn’t even sure Jemma noticed that she’d done it, but it still pleased him to no end. It certainly chased away any disappointment he felt over not getting his pet/lab assistant, and he automatically wrapped his arms around her as she ducked against his chest. 

“Dinnae suppose we could jus’ ignore tha’, huh?” The question was whispered against the crown of her head before he pressed a kiss there and permitted his eyes to slip shut once more. Fitz’ brain quickly began to run through the physics of theoretical time travel. In the end, Fitz realized it would be better for him to focus on perfecting their projects; the sooner he could get to Brazil, the better. 

“No such luck.” Jemma wanted to whine about how unfair it was that she’d gotten Fitz all to herself for such a short time, but it wouldn’t do her any good. The snooze option gave her another 10 minutes… maybe 8 and a half now… to laze around with him a few minutes longer before they had to move. “We’ve got to get cleaned up and down to breakfast. Trip seems the type to send out a search party if you’re missing too long.” 

The last thing she needed was for the specialist to show up at her door, looking to check on his friend, and finding them curled up together like this. Not that Jemma was ashamed of Fitz or anything they’d done, but she was never at her best when flustered or nervous, and if history held true, her mood would spill onto Fitz and he’d be awkward with his friend. It would simply be nerve-wracking, and Jemma suspected Trip would stand there and grin, smugly, enjoying their consternation. 

Jemma sighed and curled closer to Fitz, determined to take in everything she could in these last few minutes of privacy. Collecting and cataloging sensations, right down to the scent of him, the warmth of his hand laid over her back, and the faint scratch of his scruff against her forehead. 

“‘M surprised he hasnae show up here already, t’ be hones’.” The words were whispered against Jemma’s forehead as he pulled her in close. He might have to board a flight back to the Ranch this afternoon, but Fitz was determined to make the most of the next few moments. “C’mere, lass,” he murmured, bringing a hand to cup her cheek and direct her to look at him. He gave her his best smile and leaned in to kiss her, a lazy, teasing thing that he would have been happy to let carry them further afield if they’d had more time. 

Luckily for him, Jemma seemed just as content as he to while away the minutes left trading kisses, nestled beneath the covers and pressed close enough that even he forgot at times where one of them ended and the other began. Eventually though, her alarm broke through once more, and with identically disappointed looks, the couple forced themselves to separate and slip from beneath the duvet. 

Fitz turned his back to her as he dressed, not out of any lingering embarrassment, but to keep himself from being tempted by her. It was bad enough he could so easily imagine the picture she presented, sunlight bringing out the threads of copper in her dark tresses and bending around the curves she’d allowed him to press his mouth against… that alone made him itch to get his hands on her once more. Now wasn’t the time, though, and if they could pull this off, there’d be plenty of time for that once he got to the Treehouse. 

Looking hopelessly rumpled and with jacket in hand, Fitz trailed Jemma to the door. He turned to look at her, framed in the white wood of the doorframe, and leaned in to press one last, lingering kiss against her mouth. “I’ll see you a’ breakfas’,” he promised, eyes flitting over her face. “I’ll be quick as I can.” 

Jemma sat up on the edge of the bed for a long moment, a little dazed by that last round of kissing, and took a moment to orient herself before sighing and getting up to grab her robe and follow him to the door. She nodded, a lump in her throat before she pressed up on her toes to kiss him again. “Alright, I’ll meet you down there in a bit,” she agreed. 

She sighed once she shut the door behind him, moving into her morning routine out of sheer force of habit - her mind was still with him. It wasn’t until Jemma slipped out of her robe to shower that she found herself grinning at herself in the mirror. There were love bites across her shoulders, thankfully only one on her neck, up high under her ear where it could be hidden with hair and a judicious bit of makeup. She simply looked… loved on. A bit rumpled, hair a mess, lips still slightly swollen and darker than usual, more relaxed than usual. 

Slipping into the shower, Jemma busied herself getting ready for the day. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could get downstairs. Even if it meant facing Trip, there was Fitz. 

Doing his best impersonation of a specialist, Fitz quietly slipped his keycard into the door and cautiously poked his head around it. “Trip?” he called, voiced pitched low as he stepped over the threshold. “Are you here?”

The room was still and as he stepped further in, he could see that both beds were made. Trip must have gone to workout. Relieved that he apparently had the room to himself, the tension drained out of him. He hadn’t relished the idea of being interrogated as soon as he walked in the door; what he’d had with Jemma was special, and he wanted some time to savor it on his own. Lord knew that Trip would grill them both over breakfast anyway. 

He was looking out the window as he unbuttoned his shirt, so entirely lost in thoughts of Jemma and plans for the future that he didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Or his roommate’s barefoot tread on the plush carpet as he stepped closer. 

“Good night?”

Trip’s deep voice practically boomed out behind him, sending Fitz a good three feet into the air as he let out what could only be described as a shriek. He’d attempted to turn as he jumped, and the motion sent him careening into the wall. 

“Jesus, Trip!” the engineer shouted, glaring at the specialist, not that it was particularly effective. The taller man merely stood there, wrapped in his towel, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, and nearly doubled over with laughter. “I’s no’ funny! This is wha’ I ge’ for roomin’ with a bloody specialis’! All of you move like cats!”

“You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s hysterical,” Trip retorted, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth. “I wish I’d had my camera. That was a Kodak moment.” With one last grin, he slipped back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth and slip on his boxers. When he came back, Fitz seemed to have regained his ability to breath, but hadn’t made much more progress on his clothing. 

“You never answered my question, though… did you have a good night?”

Fitz glanced at Trip and scowled. He was in a tough spot. What he’d had with Jemma, he didn’t want to share, at least not in the lurid detail his male cousins had used to describe the women who’d had the misfortune of going home with them from the pub. She deserved better. On the other hand, he wanted someone to talk to, someone who might understand what this meant to him in the long run. Trip was that person. And, he didn’t think Jemma would mind, so long as he kept the details vague. 

“I did. ‘M sorry if you wondered where I ran off, or anythin’ o’ the sor’.”

Trip shook his head and held up a hand, waving him off. “You don’t have to apologize to me, man. You’re an adult. I’m glad you had a good night.” Trip reached into the closet for the slacks he’d ironed the night before. “You made sure she had a good night, too, right?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, not wanting Fitz to feel judged, but he also didn’t want him potentially ruining his chances with Jemma any more than he’d had back at the Academy. 

“Uh, yeah, she did,” Fitz answered, cheeks tinging red as he fiddled with his discarded button down. “Three times, actually.” He somehow managed to meet Trip’s eye, a shy but pleased smile tugging on his lips. 

Trip laughed, a big booming sound that filled the room and drew a chuckle from Fitz as well. “My man! Good work. Although, having the right woman helps, too.” If he hadn’t been before, he was now certain that Jemma was that woman for his engineer friend. “All right, Romeo,” he teased, nodding toward the bathroom. “Hit the shower. The sooner you get cleaned up, the sooner you get to see her again. I’ll meet you down in the restaurant.”

~*~

Jemma first went to the banquet hall, but after some searching, realized that neither Fitz nor Trip were there. He hadn’t texted and neither of them seemed the type to willingly miss a meal, and she thought perhaps they’d gone to the restaurant instead. To be honest, Jemma far preferred it, even if her supervisor would likely fuss over the extra expense. The food was far better and it was quieter than the banquet hall. When she tried there, she spotted Trip sitting at a table by the window almost immediately. 

Huffing out a breath at the sensation of anxiousness, Jemma braced herself for a bit of teasing and approached the table. “Good morning, Trip! I suppose Fitz is still upstairs?” she asked brightly, sliding into a seat on the other side of the table. 

Trip tilted his head and studied Jemma, a smile teasing around the edges of his mouth, “Well, well, you look awfully relaxed this morning, Agent Simmons.” He caught that she also looked a little nervous, and let his smile show. He wasn’t into upsetting anyone for the sake of a little teasing. “He’ll be down shortly. Probably just stood there in a daze for at least a few more minutes after I left,” Trip added with a wink. 

Jemma’s cheeks tinged pink, but she smiled at him, grateful for his easy acceptance of the shift in her and Fitz’ relationship. “Probably right. He’s always been rather easily distracted.” 

Showered and dressed, Fitz practically bolted through the lobby in his haste to get to the restaurant. They had perhaps 40 minutes until the keynote speech began, and if Jemma was anything like she’d been at the Academy, she’d want to be front and center for it. Not to mention, ten minutes early to ensure good seats. Stomach growling, he stepped into the restaurant. Fitz’ gaze found her nearly immediately, and with a grin on his face, wound his way through the tables over to her side. 

“I can maintain focus on the importan’ things, tha’ has t’ count for somethin’,” he said in his defense as he sank into the chair next to Jemma. He spared Trip a quick nod in greeting before looking back at her. Fitz was aware of the foolish grin stretching his mouth, but couldn’t help it. He was just that happy to be near to her. “Good mornin’, Jemma.” 

“Good morning!” Jemma’s accompanying smile was beaming and bright. It hadn’t even been that long since she shooed him out of her room, but knowing the clock was counting down, every minute seemed too precious to waste. Heedless of their audience, she leaned in and up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

Trip laughed at the two of them, seeing the way they only had eyes for each other. “It’s probably a good thing you two won’t see each other for a while after this. You’re so cute it’s kind of nauseating.” Still, he pulled out his phone when Jemma slid her chair closer to Fitz’, reading over his shoulder and discussing the menu. Fitz was serious about his food - the boy ate a ton, most of it junk or terrible, and never seemed to gain an ounce - and Jemma seemed quite aware of it. 

He covertly snapped a photo of Jemma leaned into Fitz’ side, chin on his shoulder, looking awfully happy to be there, and sent it to Bobbi. 

Fighting off an involuntary blush at Jemma’s easy display of affection (after all, it wasn’t every day he was greeted at breakfast by a beautiful woman kissing his cheek), Fitz buried his nose in his menu, trying to decide what he wanted. He knew he wanted the omelet and hash browns, and of course a side of bacon (even if it was only the American kind), but his stomach couldn’t decide between pancakes or a waffle. 

He was still pondering the decision when he felt Jemma leaning over his shoulder, and he automatically leaned back to accommodate her view. When he posed his dilemma to the biochemist without looking up, he could practically feel her dismay at his eating habits. Not wanting a pointless round of bickering before they had to go their separate ways, Fitz placed his hand on her knee, bracing himself as he turned to give her his best puppy eyes… only to bump his nose against hers. 

“‘M sorry!” The words were a rushed apology, accompanied by a clumsy smile. Seeing her lips quirk upward made his heart leap in his chest and acting on a sudden impulse, he leaned in to kiss her square on the mouth, heedless of Trip or any other member of SHIELD who might be watching. 

Jemma grinned and wrinkled the aforementioned nose. “My fault for leaving it there to be bumped - and putting it in your business. I’m good rather good at that, actually. Get a side of fruit or something, please? For the sake of my peace of mind?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’d been a junk food junkie back at the Academy, often disrupting Jemma’s thinking with the crinkling of wrappers and bags, and it seemed that habit hadn’t changed. 

Her scientist’s brain also itched to run tests on him, look at his metabolism and how his body managed to stay so thin in the face of his calorie and fat intake each day. Jemma would kill - okay, not quite. Perhaps mildly poison someone to be able to eat and stay thin. The only reason she managed it now was because she skipped meals so often. Her body never had time to catch up. 

The buzz of her phone in her pocket drew her attention away from Fitz and she tapped the screen to find a text from Bobbi. 

Jemma [09:12]: I send you off to a conference and you start picking up strays?   
Jemma [09:13]: He’s cute, at least 

Jemma’s jaw dropped and she stared at the screen for a moment before her brain made the appropriate connections and she sighed. “Trip, you are terrible. Be glad you’re both handsome and charming or I might have to be angry with you for telling Bobbi before I had a chance to.” 

“Bobbi? Bobbi… Bobbi, your roommate who could kill ten men without batting an eye, Bobbi?”

Trip shot the engineer, who apparently had a rather healthy fear of Mockingbird sight unseen, an exasperated look before turning his attention to Jemma. “If you had Barbara Morse on your ass to keep her roommate happy, you’d want to send proof you’d accomplished the task, too. If anything had gone sideways and I hadn’t told her, she’d have shown up in Wyoming looking for me.” 

His grin widened when Jemma rolled her eyes and lifted her coffee cup to her lips, certain that she was hiding a smirk of her own. One thing that everyone knew about Bobbi was her fierce loyalty to her friends, and her penchant for payback. “Girl, don’t give me that look. You know it’s true. And you’d have two deaths on your hands then, mine and Fitz’.” The engineer made a strangled sound and with wide eyes, sat back in his chair, and Trip had to fight to keep himself from laughing outright at his expression. 

Jemma was hiding a smirk, and she couldn’t help but laugh, both at Trip’s words and Fitz’ dismay. “True. Very true. And honestly, if Fitz was still behaving like he did at the Academy, I’m not sure I’d have many regrets,” she teased, before typing back to her roommate. 

Bobbi [09:15]: ……….  
Bobbi [09:15]: I know, you don’t have to say it  
Bobbi [09:16]: We talked out a lot of things last night  
Jemma [09:16]: Is that what you’re calling it now?  
Jemma [09:16]: Because you’ve got some serious heart eyes going  
Bobbi [09:16]: Oh my god!   
Bobbi [09:16]: Barbara Morse!   
Bobbi [09:17]: You stay out of my sex life and I will stay out of yours thank you very much!

Jemma was typing quickly through those last few messages, her cheeks and ears bright red, but part of her was also relieved. If Bobbi thought she was making a mistake, she’d have said so straight away and not bothered to tease her. Still, she slid the phone across the table, letting Fitz see the conversation. 

Fitz wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced an emotional turn around quite like this, going from absolute fear that his girlfriend’s roommate wanted to murder him to pleased embarrassment that she found him attractive enough for Jemma. It certainly wasn’t something he was used to being bandied about regarding himself, and he was immensely relieved when the waiter came by to take their order. 

He studiously ignored both Trip, who looked slightly impressed, and Jemma, who looked horrified, as he placed his order, only pausing when Jemma gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow. One look at her told Fitz exactly what she was on about, and he quickly protested, “Bu’ there are strawberries on the waffle!” in the hopes of her letting him slide by on that. Jemma held firm, however, and Fitz turned back to the waiter with a bit of a pout on his face. 

“Forge’ the hash browns,” he conceded, “and bring me the ruddy fruit plate.” 

Jemma made a face. She hadn’t meant he had to forego the hash browns, only that she’d rather he get something with some vitamins and minerals in it. Instead she asked for the hash browns along with her own meal. “We can split the fruit and the hash browns,” she pointed out once the waiter took Trip’s order and left, “But your diet is still terrible. Trip, does he still keep stashes of junk food in his room and the lab?” 

“Everywhere,” Trip chuckled. “Pretty sure he’s just given up and started carrying a bag around with him back at the Ranch, since he’s in the shop most of the time.” He grinned at Jemma, ignoring the scowl Fitz shot his way. 

“That’s what I thought. Fitz, you’re 27 years old. Or 28, depending on your birthday. Your ridiculous metabolism likely won’t last forever,” Jemma pointed out. 

“‘M 27,” he blurted out, “my birthday jus’ passed in the summer. And you have no room t’ talk about my eatin’ habits,” he threw at Trip, “considerin’ the gian’ bag o’ candy you gave me in exchange for puttin’ you firs’ on the list t’ test pilot the new quinjet mods. See if I do you anymore favors, Judas.” 

Despite his words, Fitz’ tone was light, and he sat back in his seat, draping his arm along the back of Jemma’s chair as he did so. Giving her a softer look, and running his thumb along her shoulder blade, he addressed her alone. “Looks like I’ll have t’ get my fill of junk food now, huh? Somethin’ tells me tha’ if our scheme works, you’ll wear me down and have me eatin’ vegetables on a regular basis.”

“You can eat the junk, as long as you eat the vegetables, too,” Jemma said laughingly, although she was distracted by Fitz’ touch on her back. “Although I do have to say, Trip, I’m disappointed in you, resorting to bribery like that. Grown men, acting like children,” she quipped. “Appropriate that it was over the man version of toys, hm? Although, Fitz was always selfish with his favorite creations.” 

The smile she gave him then though was clearly affectionate, seeing all their past interactions in a much different light. “And when is your birthday, exactly? Mine is September 11th - yes, I know. It’s got such terrible connotations attached now. I tend to not celebrate it much.” 

“‘M not okay with tha’,” Fitz responded, taking in her slightly downcast look and tipping himself against her. “You should be able t’ celebrate your birthday.” He gave her a smile to top it off, and when she returned it, he instantly began to make plans to do something special for her birthday. He wasn’t sure what resources he’d have in the Brazilian rain forest, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least make the effort for her. 

“Mine’s jus’ before yours. Augus’ 19th. I’d like t’ celebrate, but… there’s not much t’ do in Wyoming. Trip makes a mean birthday cake, though. Dinnae le’ him lie t’ you. He can cook.” 

“I do, just… quietly. A couple days later. There are enough Americans at the Treehouse it just seems… more respectful,” Jemma explained, although she couldn’t help her smile at Fitz’ immediate response to her comment. Who would have thought that given a clear path and a bit of encouragement that Fitz would turn out to be affectionate? It seemed so at odds at his grumpy behavior with most everyone else, but Jemma liked it. And the way he interacted with Trip, someone else he clearly liked and was comfortable with. 

She glanced over at the other man when Fitz mentioned he could cook, and raised an eyebrow. “Now, if you tell me you make birthday cakes from scratch, I’ll be impressed.” 

“I do, actually,” Trip replied with a satisfied grin, pleased both by Jemma’s interest and Fitz’ praise. With the way the engineer loved food, and his lack of a verbal filter, Trip knew his kitchen skills were up to par. If they hadn’t been, Fitz would have let him know a long time ago. “At least for the people I like. Everybody else gets Betty Crocker box mix.”


	9. Chapter 9

Fitz watched the interaction between his friend and his (hopefully) soon-to-be girlfriend, and began to fidget in his seat, his fingers losing their steady rhythm against Jemma’s shoulder. Jemma was incredibly attractive, as was Trip, and he would certainly make a better boyfriend than Fitz, who had never in his life thought he’d be in a relationship, let alone one he hoped would be serious. 

His stomach began to turn on him when he happened to look up and caught Jemma’s eye. That one glance from her, affectionate and concerned, quelled any burgeoning insecurities. After all he’d put her through, she’d chosen him, had taken the time to be patient with him that and had suggested they work together long term even before that. Fitz felt he knew enough of her to know that Jemma Simmons wouldn’t do either of those things lightly. 

Smiling, his hand found its previously steady rhythm once more, and Fitz confirmed what his friend had said. “I’s true. Trip’s our go-to guy for things like o’ tha’ sort. And for barbecue, although winter sometimes puts a damper on tha’.” 

Jemma shook her head. “I don’t even really know where Wyoming is. I’d thought to look it up last night, but I got rather distracted,” she said with a blush. “And I know how to cook, but honestly I haven’t had to, since going to the Treehouse. We’re so remote that everything has to be shipped in and we have an amazing cook. Good luck charming him into giving you extra meals, though.” She grinned at Fitz, knowing he’d sulk about that if he ended up there with her. 

The unease about being separated from Fitz again was still lingering under everything else, but catching him watching her almost every time she looked over helped. Their breakfasts appeared not long later, thankfully, since talking about food was only making Jemma hungrier, and she still wanted to get a good seat for the keynote presentation. Once all the plates were set down, Jemma quietly rearranged things so the hash browns and fruit plate were between her and Fitz, to be shared. 

Breakfast passed too quickly for Fitz’ liking, but he enjoyed it all the same, between the banter and food and the looks he and Jemma shared. It also didn’t escape his attention that they were remarkably good about moving around each other, managing to share their food without knocking elbows or shoulders. He supposed it was due in part to their having been lab partners at the Academy, getting used to each other’s habits even if they hadn’t cared for each other’s company back then, but the idea that perhaps it was indication they could, one day, become that synchronized in everything in the future warmed him for the rest of the meal. 

 

As he’d predicted, Jemma had insisted on getting to the speech a full 20 minutes early, and Fitz gladly allowed her to tow him to the front of the ballroom. He was surprised, but pleased, when she didn’t go directly to the front row as he’d expected, but rather the fourth. It allowed him to slip his hand around hers and, with their fingers entwined, hold it between the seats where only they would know what they were doing. The soft press of her palm, warm and tiny against his, served to strengthen his resolve further, and as he listened to Dr. Jacobsen present on the latest biomedical implants they were developing at the Hub, he swore that he’d be at the Treehouse in the next calendar year. 

Jemma’s thoughts kept drifting away from the presentation. Even though Jacobsen’s ideas were brilliant and she’d love to hear more and put them to good use, she was distracted by Fitz. Not just the warmth of his palm, or the press of his shoulder against hers, but by where they were going. For all they’d agreed to leave the Academy in the past, part of her wasn’t forgetting everything so easily. He was different now, certainly, but Jemma wasn’t foolish enough to believe things would be this easy all the time. 

And there was still the question of whether their projects were good enough to convince SHIELD to let them work together, whether at the Treehouse or elsewhere. What might happen if- There were so many ifs. Even the loosely enforced anti-fraternization policy might work against them, under the wrong supervisor. By the time the keynote presentations wrapped up, two hours later, Jemma’s nerves were entirely on edge. As the crowd of people began moving again, clearing the large exhibition hall, she tightened her fingers around his. “What- what time does your flight leave?” 

Fitz could feel something was off, both in the way her fingers snugged more tightly around his and the slight tremor in her voice, but for the life of him couldn’t tell what it was. His mind began whirring, trying to figure out what he might have happened to leave her so on edge as he answered Jemma. “Not until 5. I still need t’ pack, though, an’ Trip likes t’ be there early. He’s always worried about the security lines, even though we usually bypass ‘em anyway.”

He tried to give her a smile, hoping it would help her relax a tiny bit, and bumped his shoulder against hers. “Wha’ about your fligh’? When do you need t’ be at the airport?”

She could only sigh softly. Glancing around at the rapidly emptying space for a moment, Jemma huffed, suddenly not especially caring who saw them together, and laid her head on Fitz’ shoulder for an all too brief moment. “Soon,” Jemma whispered. “I’ve got to get upstairs and pack. My flight leaves just after two, and I’ve got to get through security at the international terminal.” 

Lifting her head again, Jemma looked at him with a tremulous, forced smile. “I know it means you’ll be there terribly early, but- Do you think you can pack fast enough to take the shuttle back to the airport with me?” If she wasn’t going to get to see Fitz again for a long while, Jemma wanted every extra minute she could get with him. 

Fitz felt his heart sink in his chest as Jemma spoke; he’d known they would have to part soon, and hadn’t actually believed their flights would line up perfectly, but he’d forgotten entirely that Jemma would be in a separate terminal. He’d hoped he could at least walk her to her gate. Jemma’s face slipped from hopeful to dejected, jarring him into giving her an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, i’s no problem, Jemma,” he rushed out, not wanting to make her unhappy or have her think he didn’t want to ride with her. “I jus’ need 15 minutes or so t’ pack. And wors’ comes t’ wors’, Trip can meet me a’ our gate later on, if he wants t’ stay behind.”

“It’ll take me a bit longer than that. The airport in Bogota is notorious for being rough on bags, so I have to be careful with my things.” Jemma reluctantly drew her hand away from Fitz and got to her feet, edging toward the aisle, which was now mostly clear as people dispersed into the hotel to chat, or like her, to head back to their rooms to collect their bags. 

Fitz got up to follow her, and Jemma stayed close to his side on the way back to the elevator bank. They lucked out and got a car to themselves - Jemma made the most of the opportunity by tipping up on her toes to kiss him, only to pull back with a sigh when the panel dinged at her floor. “Come down to my room when you’re ready, okay?” she suggested as she backed out of the elevator, hazel eyes fixed on Fitz. 

He nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t break, and dutifully maintained eye contact with Jemma until the doors finally slid shut, torn between wanting to extend the moment and wanting to hurry and pack so he could get a few minutes more with her. When the elevator dropped him on his floor, Fitz practically flew down the hall and through his door, allowing it to bang against the wall without a single thought to who he may be disturbing. 

His roommate was conspicuously absent, and while Fitz was curious as to where the specialist may have gotten to, was entirely more concerned with packing his bag and making sure he had everything he’d need to get through his own security queue at the airport. The entire operation took him ten minutes, and another two to check the room to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He tapped out a text to Trip explaining where he’d be as he rode the elevator down, and by the time he eventually knocked on Jemma’s door, no more than a quarter hour had passed. 

Jemma let him in, her own things in neat piles on her bed, where she’d collected everything and was just now fitting them into her suitcase. She gave Fitz a tight smile, unhappy but dealing as best she could, as she packed her things in tightly around the case with her samples and external hard drive. That didn’t take long, and she locked the suitcase with a sigh, finally turning to look at Fitz, “This really isn’t fair.” 

She meant quite a lot of things, between their shared histories, that he’d turned out to be her anonymous friend, all that had happened in the last few days, and now being separated again, so soon after finding each other. “We’re going to make this work, right?” she asked softly, suddenly feeling vulnerable and a little scared. It would be so easy for him to avoid her after this if he wanted, rather than going forward with their plan. After all, she’d be in the middle of nowhere, in Brazil. 

The sense of melancholy that pervaded the room was so contrary to the happy hours they’d spent there that morning that it twisted Fitz’ gut. He’d been about to open his mouth to agree with Jemma, that it wasn’t fair, when her question shot out of her mouth quickly enough that it nearly felt like a slap. Moving slowly, Fitz pushed his wheeled bag against the wall and stepped into her, his arms wrapping around her waist. 

“We’re goin’ t’ make i’ work, yeah,” he quietly agreed, ducking his head so he could brush his nose against hers. He brought one hand up to cup her face, remembering how she had liked that earlier, and allowed his thumb to brush back and forth against the apple of her cheek. “One way or another, Jemma, we’re goin’ t’ make this work.”

Her eyes slid shut against the sudden burn of tears and Jemma leaned her forehead against Fitz’ for a long moment while she got her emotions back under control. “Okay,” she said finally, nodding slightly as she drew back. “We’ll figure it out.” 

There was another long pause while Jemma simply lingered in Fitz’ hold, not wanting to pull away yet, but she glanced over at the clock and knew she had to. They’d need to get on a shuttle soon, or she’d risk missing her flight. “We should go,” Jemma murmured eventually, still not moving away. 

There was a part of him, one that was likely cultivated from all the of times the Ranch’s chief communications officer had dragged him into watching girly movies with her, that wanted to beg Jemma to forget her flight. To reschedule it, or book another altogether, and they could run away, SHIELD be damned. But Fitz knew better than that. The two of them might last a week living in a beachfront paradise before they grew bored and fidgety from the lack of mental stimulation. Instead he dutifully gathered the heavier bags and followed her out of the room and down to the shuttle, trying to ignore the fact his stomach was trying to see just how many ways it could knot itself before the day was out. 

Their ride to Miami International was quiet, and Fitz could only assume Jemma was just as preoccupied as he was, worrying about what might happen. Being a genius, he had never had cause to doubt himself or question the outcome of an experiment, but this was an entirely different kettle of fish. Even if both their projects came off spectacularly, SHIELD didn’t have to put them together. And they didn’t take kindly to scientists protesting via work stoppages. His own experience with the organization demonstrated that much. 

When the bus stopped, Fitz gave Jemma’s fingers a little squeeze before he hurried off to fish their luggage from beneath the vehicle, trusting that she would remember to grab his backpack as well as hers. With both of their bags, he was unable to hold her hand as they walked into the terminal, but he stuck close by her side, through the ticketing line for check-in and all the way to the security checkpoint. He halted when she did, and with a small smile, broke the silence first. “I… I am goin’ t’ miss you. More than you probably realize.” The sadness that had been gnawing at him that morning returned full force, and Fitz could feel tears forming at the inner corners of his eyes. “You’ll tex’ as soon as you land, righ’? Both at Bogota and on base? I wan’ t’ l know you made it home safe.” 

Unbeknownst to Fitz, Jemma was having similar thoughts, wondering if she could ‘accidentally’ miss her flight and get those extra few hours with Fitz. But at the same time, she knew better. If nothing else, Jemma would be very carefully toeing the line of SHIELD regulations, even beyond her usual conscientious, rule-abiding behavior. That way when she requested Fitz as a partner again, there would be no obvious reason for rejection. Her current supervisor wasn’t unreasonable; Jemma hoped her sterling record would let him simply review her request and set the slow wheels of SHIELD bureaucracy into motion. 

Her fingers stayed tightly twined with his on the ride back to the airport, hidden in the far back seat as they were. Fitz seemed bent on being extra chivalrous, fetching their bags and leaving her to handle the smaller carry-ons, accompanying her into the international terminal, even though it meant he’d have to walk all the way back to the far side of the airport to catch his own flight. For once in her life, the overly independent Jemma didn’t even protest his doting behavior. 

And when he looked at her there at the entrance to the security checkpoint, blue eyes glossed, and admitted he’d miss her… Jemma’s heart would have to have been stone - and it certainly wasn’t - not to react. She flung her arms around Fitz’ middle, burying her face in his shoulder and neck and holding on tight. “I’ll text. I promise,” she said, nodding into his shirt. “And you be careful, okay? I know Trip will keep an eye on you, but be careful getting home, and try not to do anything silly the next couple months, okay? Don’t give SHIELD a reason to tell us no.” 

He dropped his own bag and wrapped his arms around her, palms splayed wide across her back as he held her close, He wanted to cry, but held back for Jemma’s sake. Fitz had a feeling that if he allowed himself the luxury of weeping, she wouldn’t be far behind. 

“I’ll behave,” he promised, whispering directly into her ear. “I’ve the proper motivation now, after all.” It was the truth. Before, he was lax about rules and regulations because, quite frankly, he knew how valuable he was to them. But now, with Jemma in the mix, he’d dance to any tune SHIELD insisted on, something he had no doubt his SO would appreciate, even if she didn’t fully understand his new change in attitude. 

Fitz pulled back enough to see Jemma’s face, and with his fingers cupped around her jaw, drew her into a heated, lingering goodbye kiss. 

Jemma struggled with her own tears, not wanting to be a soggy mess for their goodbye, and was relieved when Fitz kissed her. It made it that much easier to push back her sadness and focus on what could be, if they handled the next couple of months properly. Even when he released her lips, Jemma stayed there, face tipping into his touch and soaking in sense memories: the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin against hers, the blue of his eyes holding her gaze, the taste of his kisses and the soft rasp of his brogue. 

Eventually though, fifteen minutes and not enough kisses later, Jemma had to go. Giving him a shaky, tremulous smile, she slipped out of his arms to gather her carry on from where she’d dropped it. “Bye, Fitz,” she said softly, biting her lip. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Yeah, soon,” he quietly agreed, watching with a heavy heart as she gathered her things. He managed to duck in for one last kiss and walked her to the start of the queue, doing his best to smile as he watched her go. He stood there for a good twenty minutes and watched her go through the rigmarole of taking out her laptop and toeing off her shoes, standing still for the scanners, and then rushing to put it all back together so as not to hold up the line. Once she was through and settled, Jemma turned back to him and blew him a kiss; for his part, Fitz did something he’d never expected he’d do, and caught it, grinning like a fool until she finally disappeared from sight. 

Without any other reason to stay in the international terminal, he gathered his things and trudged back to domestic flights. Hours earlier than he needed to be, he took his time, people watching and purposely not trying to think about Jemma. Naturally, the harder he tried to not think of her, the more she occupied his thoughts, leaving him a morose mess by the time he reached his gate. Hours ahead of schedule, he slumped into an empty chair apart from the crowd and stared out the window, watching the planes taxi past without actually seeing any of them. 

Trip had taken his time leaving the hotel and getting to the airport, even though he was still an hour and a half early for their flight, wanting to give Jemma and Fitz time to say their goodbyes. But once he was there, he didn’t dawdle, making his way through security, grabbing a smoothie and then straight to his gate.

It wasn’t hard to find Fitz. The Scot was tucked away in a corner by the window at the unused gate across from their own, staring morosely out toward the runway. “Hey, man,” the specialist greeted his friend, dropping his own bag into a chair and settling across from Fitz, propping his feet up on the seat next to the engineer. “You alright?” 

Startled out of his reverie by the dull thud of Trip’s bag hitting the paper-thin carpet near his feet, Fitz looked up at the older man. He sighed and sat back in his chair, pondering the question, and how honestly he wanted to answer it. 

“No, ‘m not all righ’,” he admitted, breaking Trip’s gaze to look past him out the window. The setting sun was painting the landscape in bright oranges and pinks, and he wondered for a moment what Jemma might look like bathed in that same light. Fitz shook himself out of it, and when he saw that Trip was staring at him, sipping his smoothie and patiently waiting on him to explain further, he did. 

“I jus’... I know ‘m not good enough for her. Never have been. So, I cannae help bu’ wonder. Wha’ happens if I ge’ there an we realize wha’ happened here was an anomaly? Tha’ we really dinnae like each other tha’ much? Or wha’ if I cock i’ up, jus’ like I did back a’ the Academy? I’s not like I know how t’ be good a’ this entire datin’ thing.”

Trip’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t like Fitz to be so introspective. If anything, the engineer was almost too cocky most of the time. The fact that he was digging into things now was actually probably a good sign. A sign that he was taking this all seriously. “Look, Fitz, you two are going to have to work together successfully to convince SHIELD to partner you again. That’ll be step one. If you can’t do it’, you’ll know then. And somehow I got the impression that Jemma Simmons doesn’t give up easily.” 

He shrugged a shoulder, gesturing with his smoothie with the opposite hand. “Seriously though? Just keep remembering that she’s too good for you. It’s when you forget that and start thinking she’s a sure thing that you’ll mess up. Trust me on that.” 

The engineer cocked his head and considered the man across from him. Trip had always seemed so confident to him, had flirted and charmed women so easily, that Fitz couldn’t reconcile the idea that he had ever had to learn that particular lesson when it came to the fairer sex. Part of him wanted to pry, wanted to hear the details of what had happened, but something in Trip’s eye kept him from asking. 

“Somethin’ tells me Jemma Simmons is the type tha’ makes i’ easy t’ remember,” Fitz confided, grinning and looking down at his knees. “Each day we had lab back a’ the Academy, she said somethin’ or came up with somethin’ tha’ made my jaw drop. She jus’...” He looked back at Trip, aware he looked like a lovesick fool, and grinned. “She’s amazin’. I dinnae think rememberin’ ‘m not good enough is goin’ t’ be a problem.”

“You’ve got it bad, my friend,” Trip said, his mood shifting back to his usual good humor, as simply as that. “I don’t want to hear any bad renditions of sappy love songs or anything once we’re back at the Ranch, alright?” He could deal with a grinning, lovesick Fitz, but a sickeningly sappy one would have to be dealt with by prank. 

Trip spent the next few hours encouraging Fitz into conversation whenever he started to get too moody again - he could tell by the way the engineer’s eyes glazed over as he watched the planes pass by on the runways outside. By the time they boarded their own flight back to Wyoming though, Fitz just seemed tired, and Trip bumped him with an elbow as they came down the ramp to the plane. “Get it together, man. You’ll have messages from her by the time we get home.” 

Trip was right, of course. The first thing Fitz did when they touched down was take his mobile off airplane mode, and as soon as he had a signal, a string of messages came pinging in, and his smile grew wider with each one. 

Jemma [19:43]: Landed in Bogota.  
Jemma [19:43]: Landed at the Treehouse.  
Jemma [19:43]: Tired. Let me know when you get home. I’ll see it in the morning. 

Fitz thumbed through the messages multiple times, only stopping when Trip finally noticed his behavior and cuffed him in the shoulder. “Move it, Romeo,” he chided, pushing the engineer toward the exit. “I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight, and that only happens if we get off this plane in the near future.”

“Yeah, yeah, quit natterin’ a’ me, yeah? ‘M movin’ as quick as I can,” Fitz muttered, shouldering his backpack as he sent a message of his own back to Jemma, somehow managing to do so without tripping over his own feet. 

Fitz [19:47]: Just landed. Wyoming is as dull as I remember.  
Fitz [19:47]: Have you figured out where it is yet?  
Fitz [19:47]: Good night, Jemma. I’ll send you my notes on the dendrotoxin in the morning.

Jemma woke the next morning to a ruckus outside her window. Bleary eyed and groggy, she rolled out of her bed and stumbled over toss her curtains back, startled by the sight of three young capuchins gleefully using her balcony railings, chairs, posts and overhangs as their own personal playground. They all froze at the sight of her, but when she did nothing more than watch, it only took a few seconds before they were back at it. 

Fitz. Fitz would love this, Jemma grinned. Fumbling for her phone, she quickly punched in her pin and into the camera, taking a minute or so of video with the small creatures. Jemma hesitated before sending it though, and went to her laptop to look up where Wyoming actually was - and calculate the time difference between herself and Fitz. 8:30 here… so 5:30 at the Ranch. She grinned. Oh well. She’d been woken by monkeys, he could be as well. 

Jemma [05:34]: >  
Jemma [05:34]: good morning  
Jemma [05:35]: you think it’s a good omen that these little guys woke me up this morning? 

The pinging of his message alert woke him, and Fitz growled when he glanced at his bedside clock. It wasn’t even 6 am yet. Groaning a bit, he buried his face back into the pillow he’d curled himself around. It was a piss poor replacement for the woman he’d held in his arms the night before, but it’d been better than nothing. Eventually, though, he forced his leaden limbs to reach for his mobile, mindful that it could be his SO wanting a full report of the conference, and not wanting to give the man any reason to discipline him.

His grumpy look instantly disappeared when he saw the name attached to the message, and quickly downloaded and watched the video she sent. That drew a full body laugh from him, and Fitz collapsed back into the pillows to watch it twice more before responding. 

Fitz [08:39]: second best wake up gift ever  
Fitz [08:39]: thank you  
Fitz [08:39]: your trip home was okay?  
Jemma [05:41]: i didn’t mean to wake you - it’s 8:40 here - but you’re welcome! :)  
Jemma [05:42]: it was good  
Jemma [05:42]: don’t think i’ll ever get used to three hours in a helicopter, though

She blushed through all the typing, flustered and pleased at the implication of his ‘second best wake up gift’ comment. Jemma didn’t have anywhere to be for a while, so she curled back up in bed with the phone, content to talk to him for a little while instead of actually starting her day. It wasn’t until Bobbi tapped on her door to check on her nearly an hour later that Jemma broke off the conversation to scramble through getting ready for work. 

That set the tone for the next few weeks, with Jemma and Fitz having a personal conversation in the morning or late in the evening, and then focusing on work during the day. Between texts and emails and video conferencing, they collaborated on adding biometrics to Fitz’ drones, and designing the delivery mechanism for Jemma’s dendrotoxin, testing and perfecting. 

Jemma’s supervisor had stopped in one day, drawn into Jemma’s lab by the sounds of conversation when he knew she was supposed to be working alone. While he carried on a civil conversation with Fitz, later on he called Jemma into his office, questioning her association with the engineer. She admitted they’d met on the forums and figured out the other’s identity at the conference, but not about their sidelined romance, and then mentioned that Fitz was interested in transferring to the Treehouse if he was amenable. She’d only gotten a frown and a dismissal, and Jemma unhappily mentioned it to Fitz that night. 

Hearing her tone, caught somewhere between worried and hopeful, made Fitz’ stomach turn to a rock. He knew what Jemma was doing, trying to put a brave face on an obstacle to their plans, and he wished he could be there in person to help her sort through it. Or, at the very least, to give her a hug. Instead, he was left to bumble on the other end of the line, trying to sound reassuring by telling her that of course it would work out, she’d see and they’d both show SHIELD, and feared he fell terribly short of what she needed. 

After all, what good were words if nothing came of them? If he only got to hold her when they ran across each other at conferences or a few weekends when they could both manage to get away from their respective bases, if at all?

After a few minutes, Jemma sighed softly and said she needed to get to sleep. Fitz let her go with his usual sign off of, “Sweet dreams, lass. I’ll talk t’ you in the mornin’,” but instead of the hopeful anticipation of being able to say those words to her in person one day, all he felt was hollow. Setting his phone aside, Fitz spent the next several hours staring at his ceiling, trying to figure out what he could have done differently and reviewing what needed to be done to get him down to Brazil. 

Jemma spent a good part of her night worrying over her supervisor’s reaction to working with Fitz, and the decided non-reaction to her hesitant suggestion that he might transfer. Even Fitz’ hesitant attempts to comfort her hadn’t really been helpful, and she ended up giving up on sleep and crawling out of bed at 2 am. Booting up her computer, she opened up her presentation from the conference and started marking it up, noting where information had changed and where new documents, graphics and facts about the expanded usages should be included. 

The only way she could see making everything work the way they’d planned it was if their projects were the best they could be. They had to impress someone who’d be willing to take a chance on letting them work together again, even if it wasn’t her current boss. As much as she loved the Treehouse, the potential for her and Fitz… not just for romance, but for professional creativity and development… was virtually unlimited. They were both in possession of genius level intelligence, and just expanding their existing projects over the forums had been so very productive…


	10. Chapter 10

By the time the sun rose, Jemma had a good start on the expanded presentation and a plan. Another week to finish up final details on her project then submitting it on the forums for review, then to her boss. If he was still on the fence or unwilling to talk about transferring Fitz in, then she’d put out feelers to her contacts about transferring out. It was a risk, but a calculated one. Few of the biochemists assigned here had as much luck with the local flora as she did. 

Fitz had eventually fallen asleep, although it had been restless and left him feeling grouchier than usual the next day. The first thing he did after stumbling into his clothing was to get a cup of coffee, and with the hopes of feeling a bit more human eventually, went down to his lab work bench and loaded the files they’d been working on for the past several weeks. He’d had a thought some time before drifting off about the phrasing on one of the sections of Jemma’s presentation, and opened that file first, not wanting to forget what it was he wanted to adjust. 

He could see that she’d been in the file herself, and while he worried about her getting enough rest - given that he knew it must have taken her the better part of the night to complete all of this - he couldn’t help but grin, too. Great minds really did think alike, and with them on the same page, he had every confidence that they could get their plan to work, eventually. Feeling more hopeful, but still weary, Fitz began to make his own adjustments, careful to not undo any of Jemma’s hard work. If this didn’t impress her supervisor, he wasn’t sure what would. 

Jemma was relieved to see Fitz’s name finally come up on her contacts list, and she clicked open an instant message rather than start a video conference. 

(11:18): will you be okay running things on your own for a while today?  
(11:18): i didn’t sleep much last night   
(11:18): i’m going to need a nap before much longer

It wasn’t terrible just yet, but Jemma was running on coffee and nerves and a crash was coming. With any luck she could get an hour’s nap around mid-afternoon and be back up and running to work with him until late in the evening. While Jemma’s gun was just about ready, Fitz had run into a problem with the biometrics systems on his drones and Jemma still had to troubleshoot the results to identify the problem. 

Fitz felt his face contort into a frown at her message, hating that she hadn’t slept. He knew that meant his words hadn’t done anything to comfort her, and he suddenly felt incredibly ineffective. He had no idea how she thought of him - boyfriend, lover, or something far more ambiguous - but he knew enough to know he should have been able to do more for her last night. No matter. He could always focus on what could be done now. 

(08:20): yeah, i’ll be fine. get some sleep  
(08:20): i was just making some edits to the mechanical section of your report  
(08:21): just let me know what tests you’d like me to try with the drones  
(08:21): i can have everything ready for you when you wake up 

He paused for a moment, hesitant to say anything more over a means of communication that SHIELD was sure to be watching, but unable to let it go, either. 

(08:23): is there anything else you need me to do?

She stared at the screen for a long moment, uncertain how to answer, starting to type a few times but erasing it before actually sending it to Fitz. Eventually she shook her head. She was being silly. The things Jemma wanted from Fitz right then were impossible and it would only hurt them both to bring up the distance between them. It was hard enough as it was. 

Jemma sent Fitz the list of tests she’d need to try and pinpoint where the readings on the drones were wrong, and then added one more. 

(11:29): i’ll call you when i wake up  
(11:29): i’ll have to get something to eat, too, so i’ll have a bit of time to chat then  
(11:30): if that’s okay with you?

Fitz, working on his dual screen setup, read her messages as they came through in real time, and found his fingers dancing across his keyboard as soon as she finished typing. 

(08:30): of course.   
(08:30): i always like hearing from you  
(08:31): just do me a favor and text me first, so i won’t be in the middle of any simulations

It wasn’t that Fitz wasn’t capable of dividing his attention; if anything, he thrived on multitasking. It was the only way he would have been able to complete the drones and fulfill his duties at the Ranch as well, after all. But when it came to Jemma, he didn’t want any distractions. No, she got his full attention whenever she called, as she deserved. 

(11:32): done and done  
(11:32): nap time. back in a bit

Logging off her workstation in the lab, Jemma made her way through the Treehouse, to the elevator that took her up into the living spaces, and eventually to her bed. She set her phone next to her. Even knowing Fitz wouldn’t call or text when he knew she was trying to rest, it made Jemma feel better to have it close, just in case. Setting an alarm for two hours of sleep, she cuddled into her pillows and was out within minutes. 

Three hours later, eyes blurring and a dull ache beginning to throb at the base of his skull, Fitz still stared at his monitor. Rather, the simulation that was running on his monitor. It made no bloody sense; he’d checked and triple checked everything, his equations, his data, and the whether he’d entered everything correctly, to no avail. According to this, there was no way in hell the biometrics system in his drones would work. At least, not well enough; there was no way in hell a 34% success rate would be considered sufficient reason to transfer him to Brazil to be Jemma’s partner. 

Closing his eyes, Fitz stretched his neck and shook out his arms, steeling himself to get back to work when he heard his mobile buzz on the workbench next to him. Snatching it up, he answered the call without taking his eyes from the screen. 

“Yeah?” he barked, annoyed at the interruption. 

Jemma woke from her nap on time, but lingered in bed for a while. It wasn’t unusual for the scientists at the Treehouse to work odd hours. The supervisors didn’t especially care, as long as they all worked roughly eight hours a day and were able to answer questions as needed, so Jemma felt comfortable in deviating from her usual schedule. Taking the time to make a meal, she waited until she was sitting down with her plate before setting the phone on the table and dialing Fitz, completely forgetting her promise to text him first. 

When he barked into the receiver, Jemma flinched and ducked. Even though he wasn’t there to see it, he may as well have hit her with the sharpness of his tone and the brusque greeting. She wasn’t that girl she’d been back at the Academy though, and even though it hurt, Jemma wasn’t going to let Fitz get away with treating her that way. Not anymore. “I guess I’ve caught you at a bad time."

Her voice firmed though, unwilling to accept the rudeness, “You can call me back when you’re not going to snap at me first thing.” A moment later, she’d stabbed the red button to end the call. 

“Wha’? Jemma, jus’ wai-”

But the line went dead before he could finish his statement, leaving Fitz to stare, dumbfounded at his phone. He’d only said one word, and she’d hung up on him. His shock was quickly overtaken by anger, fingers flexing around the device. She’d hung up on him. He’d been struggling to come up with a solution while she slept, and she’d had the nerve to hang up on him. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew the exact cost of his phone, Fitz would have chucked it clear across the lab in his frustration. 

Recalling Trip’s words, he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He might not have meant to, but he’d upset Jemma, and he had to at least try to make it right. Even if he was livid that she’d hung up on him. 

With one more deep inhale and a drawn out exhale, Fitz pushed away from the computer and wandered over to one of the lab’s few windows, hoping the change in view would be enough to drain some of the tension from his back and shoulders. Lifting his mobile, he pulled up Jemma’s profile, and dialed her number. 

“I was in the middle o’ a simulation,” he blurted out, voice tinged with defensiveness. “The fuckin’ thing still willnae work. I’s no excuse, but I though’ you were Trip, callin’ t’ see wha’ I was up t’. ‘M sorry I snapped a’ you.” He paused, debating if he really wanted to add the next part, but his annoyance at what Jemma had done wouldn’t leave him. “But I dinnae think hangin’ up is helpful.”

Jemma set the phone gently back on the table after disconnecting the call, sighing. That hadn’t been the most mature action she’d ever taken, but Fitz generally wasn’t good at subtle. Direct and deliberate tended to work better. And so when her phone rang a few minutes later, Jemma waited in silence while Fitz nattered at her. 

She could hear the anger under the defensiveness, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t get any more accusatory than the last annoyed comment, but that still didn’t mean she was going to let him off the hook. “You’re right - that probably wasn’t helpful, but it got your attention. We’re not seventeen anymore, Fitz. We’re partners, and I’m not going to let you get away with the things I did before,” she said firmly. “That includes taking it out on me when you’re frustrated with work.” 

Pausing for a moment, Jemma considered her next words, and finally settled on, “If you need to vent to me, you’re welcome to, but I would appreciate if you let me know you’re frustrated with something, rather than snapping first thing. I do tend to take that personally.” 

“Fair enough,” Fitz replied, anger draining, but still feeling defensive. He never had reacted to surprise well, even from something as small as an unexpected phone call. He’d finally learned that about himself after Trip had taken him to task for the umpteenth time, and since he’d learn to put certain safeguards in place. “Bu’ I did ask tha’ you text firs’, instead o’ callin’ straight away.” 

Fitz had suspected that he’d be frustrated to no end by the simulations, and that his nature tended toward waspish when in such a state. That had been the reason he’d asked her to text; he hadn’t wanted to snap at Jemma. But even that had blown up in his face. Feeling sullen, Fitz’ eyes slipped shut and he leaned his forehead against the cool glass. “Doesnae matter, I guess. ‘M really sorry, Jem.” 

“I- shite. I totally forgot,” Jemma said immediately, remembering the conversation prior to her nap. “My turn to apologize. I got up and got something to eat, and I didn’t even think. I had my hands full and it was easier to just call and put you on speaker.” She sighed and tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Rolling her shoulders to relieve some of her own sudden tension, she refocused on Fitz. “I’m sorry, too, Fitz. I still meant what I said - I’m not going to let you get away with being rude - but I messed up too.” 

She hesitated again, and her voice was softer this time. “Can we just start this whole conversation over again? Hi, Fitz.” 

Eyes still shut, Fitz swallowed heavily and pressed himself further into the glass, even as he smiled. “Hi, Jemma,” he whispered, throat still tight with his disappointment in himself. Trip had warned him, and he’d tried to treat her well, but he still felt as though he’d failed somehow. It was a sharp reminder that he wasn’t good enough for her, but damned if he didn’t want to try to live up to her standards. 

He forced his eyes open and, waiting a beat as he stared over the vast landscape of Wyoming, found his voice once more. “You’ve no idea how much I miss you, lass. I - I keep thinkin’ tha’ this would all be easier if you were in the lab next t’ me.” 

Jemma frowned at the shift in his tone, almost sounding defeated and even a bit vulnerable. “We’ll figure it out, Fitz,” she said quietly, propping her elbow on the table and nibbling at her very late lunch. “I don’t know if it would be easier if we were together - you’ll still be grumpy and I’ll still be anal-retentive,” she teased gently. “But we’d make it work. That’s the idea this time around, right? We could do really great things together, if SHIELD will give us another shot. If we give each other another shot…” 

She’d been hesitant all these weeks to get too personal with him, keeping that bit of emotional distance up to help her bear the forced separation when she really wanted to be near Fitz. To get to know him in all the ways she hadn’t before, at the Academy. “I wish we were past this part already, too. But we’re here and we’ve got to make the best of it for now.” 

Fitz could see in the window’s reflection that his smile was weak, at best, and tried to grin more broadly, hoping it would pass through to the other end of the line. “Yeah,” he agreed, “yeah, you’re righ’. Soon, hopefully… if we can ever ge’ this stupid simulation to work. I jus’... I have no idea if my data is wrong, or wha’ the hell I did.”

He forced out a breath and pushed away from the window, beginning to pace as his mind raced to try to find a solution, to no avail. It only left him feel as though he were spinning his wheels. “Maybe I need t’ take a break,” he muttered, kicking at an imaginary scuff on the floor. “I feel like I’ve been cooped up here for ages.” 

“Is this all you’ve done since I left earlier?” Jemma asked, even as she realized it was a silly question. Of course the stubborn arse hadn’t done anything else. Put a stumbling block in front of him and Fitz would keep kicking at it until it was out of his way. “Silly Fitz,” she murmured, a note of affection in her voice. “Send me your result sets. I’ll take a look and see if I can pinpoint whether it’s the test, the sensors, or the way the drones are processing the results.” 

“And then you are going outside. Grab Trip, go play in one of the off-road vehicles. Something. But get out of that lab for an hour or two,” Jemma said firmly. The last thing she wanted was for him to get so frustrated that he did something stupid and derailed their plans. 

Feeling sufficiently admonished, Fitz ducked his head and blushed, despite the fact that Jemma couldn’t see him from all the way in Brazil. At least not without video chat enabled. He was grateful it hadn’t been a video call; he was sure he looked an absolute mess, rumbled and not at all appealing. 

“Are those doctor’s orders, lass?” he managed to tease even as he save his work and logged out of his station. “Jus’ in case my SO asks why I’ve abandoned my post.” With his standard workload already handled for the day, Fitz knew his supervisor wouldn’t care. So long as the fleets were maintained, and he didn’t cause too much havoc, she was content to leave him to his own devices. 

“If that’s what it takes to get you to take a break, yes,” Jemma said immediately. They’d both be more settled, given a bit of time. “I’m going to finish my lunch and then head back down to the lab to dig through whatever you just sent me.” 

She glanced at the clock in the top corner of the screen and made a quick calculation. “I don’t want to see you back online or hear from you again before 3pm your time. Preferably 4pm.” It would give him a just shy of a three hour break, if he came back at 3. “Go on. Shoo. Knowing you, you’ll come up with something completely brilliant as soon as your brain focuses on something else and lets go of whatever you’re stuck on right now.” 

“All righ’, ‘m goin’. I know you’ll jus’ be cross with me if I stick around.” Fitz’ words were teasing, his tone light as his feet carried him away from the laboratory. Jemma was, unsurprisingly, right. Being around the lab for such an extended period time had only left him frustrated. A few hours away, and he’d be ready to work again. 

It wasn’t long after that, with Jemma pointing out how he needed to recalibrate the sensors that the drones were ready to go. They took another week to tweak everything before putting the projects on the forums for anonymous review. Fitz was faced with the uncomfortable reality of being nervous for the first time in his life; it wasn’t that he didn’t think the projects were brilliant, no he was certain that they were, but rather what he had riding on them. 

In short, it felt as though his entire future depended on whether they’d gotten this right. Depending on what kind of feedback they received, they’d either have to go back and work from where they’d been six weeks ago, something Fitz found abhorrent, or they’d be ready to polish and present. For Fitz, with their own personal clock ticking down, he felt as though he’d lose his mind if he was told to go all the way back to the start. He was nearly desperate for this to work, and he did his best to hide that from Jemma when they spoke on the phone, although he had a sinking suspicion that she knew damn well where his mind was. 

Jemma was nervous too, but nowhere near as much as Fitz, as they made the last tweaks. If anything, the way he seemed to be drawing in on himself, fretting over the results of their forum submissions, made her that much more determined not to let him know she was worried, too. The reality of it was that if they got negative feedback on the forums, they’d know the projects still weren’t as good as they could be. Possibly not good enough to convince the powers that be to let them pair off again. 

And that, Jemma wasn’t willing to risk, so the peer review was a necessary step. In the end, she posted hers first, uploading everything in the wee hours on another sleepless, worried night, and crashing after sending Fitz a quick text. 

Fitz (04:23): Tag, you’re it. The dendrotoxin and delivery device are up on the forums for review. 

Three hours behind Jemma, Fitz was still awake when her message came through. He stared at the screen for a few moments, feeling as though time had stopped. It was do-or-die time. Jemma had taken the first leap over the edge, and now it was his turn. 

It was comforting in a way, actually. Uploading her project for review meant she had faith in the work they’d done on the dendrotoxin weapons; tagging him in was her confirmation that she thought the drones were set, too. And since Jemma was easily the most brilliant person he knew, Fitz couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t trust her. Still, he was unable to upload it without giving it one more looking over, and it was another hour before he had resigned himself to knowing there was nothing more he could do. It was simply time to put it out there and see what his fellow scientists thought. 

Fitz watched as the bar filled, indicating that the file had been sent without incident. Satisfied that everything was there, but feeling in no way settled, Fitz shut everything down and slinked off to his own room, texting Jemma as he went. 

Jemma (02:44): Uploaded the drones. Fingers crossed.   
Jemma (02:44): Goodnight, Jemma. Talk to you in the morning. 

In the morning, Bobbi was already out when Jemma got up, but she texted her roommate, begging for distraction. Thus she ended up down in the workout area, sparring with the Specialist. Well, if you could call it sparring. More like Bobbi coaching Jemma through a proper workout and then showing her some basic self-defense moves. Barbara Morse was a proponent of making sure her scientists weren’t entirely helpless should something happen at the base, and had been appalled to find that Jemma hadn’t gotten much more than a weapons safety class at the Academy. 

Bobbi’s plan worked though, and it was nearly three hours later before Jemma noted the time again. Without the physical activity, Jemma would have spent her morning obsessively checking the forums between pretending to do other lab work. Or texting Fitz - who was likely still asleep - fussing over the potential responses. Jemma was just getting ready to head into the gym showers and get cleaned up when the buzzing of her mobile drew her attention - a video call from Fitz. 

“Hi, Fitz!” she greeted him brightly, her cheeks pink and her hair a mess of flyaways from the workout. 

When he’d first woken around midmorning, Fitz had been disappointed to see no message from Jemma. He realized that she did have her own work to keep up on, as well as the projects, but he’d gotten used to hearing from her. It had quickly become his favorite way to start his day, and going without it left him feeling a little sullen, even if he knew he had no real reason to feel that way. 

He showered and dressed, looking for an excuse not to check his phone or laptop, before padding into the small kitchen he and Trip shared. The specialist, it seemed, hadn’t made coffee that morning, so Fitz was left to find his own source of caffeine. Setting the pot to brew, he finally gave in and keyed open his phone to send a video call to Jemma. With the way he was feeling, nerves knotting up his stomach, he wanted to see, as well as hear, her. 

While he’d expected the bright greeting, he hadn’t expected her to look quite so… flushed, and nearly choked on his own tongue. 

“Uh… um… hi, Jem,” he managed, jaw working as he tried to keep himself from thinking of just what a similar state she’d been in their last morning together. Naturally, he failed, and so with images of them twined together in a hotel bed, he somehow managed to choke out, “Good mornin’.”

Jemma’s excitement to hear from Fitz faded as she focused on her phone and got a good look at him. He looked rumpled and rather discomfited, and Jemma did a quick calculation on the time difference, racking her brain for any reason he might look so nervous. 

“Fitz?” she asked, worried, “Fitz. What’s wrong? Oh, god. It’s the project, isn’t it? I’ve been avoiding looking - I don’t want to know yet. You looked. What are people saying?” Jemma spun into catastrophe mode, hurrying out of the gym toward her room, where she could get on the forums in relative privacy. She had a feeling if she went on there and saw any sort of non-constructive criticism, she was going to cry. And Jemma didn’t want anyone seeing that. It would just be too unprofessional. “I have to look. Oh, but I don’t want to,” Jemma babbled out, nearly whimpering at the thought of failing this first test. 

Before she could make it out to the elevator though, she had Bobbi got in her way, blocking the hall. “Jemma, what’s wrong?” The specialist was in full-on protective mode, hands on her hips and taking up extra space to dissuade Jemma from ducking around. “Fitz, what have you done?” Bobbi called, unable to see the screen but knowing the engineer was still there. “She was fine a minute ago.” 

“No, no, Jemma, I havenae… Lass, I need you t’ listen, I dinnae know-” 

Fitz tried to cut off her tirade, not wanting Jemma to go into a tailspin over what very well could be nothing, but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was off on her own tangent, her panic creeping up, leaving Fitz to feel absolutely useless. He certainly couldn’t grab her and kiss her to distract her, which admittedly might not have done much, with him being in an entirely different country. Thinking about kissing Jemma at that moment was the absolutely last thing he should have done, and Fitz went beet red as he tried to keep his composure when he heard Bobbi in the background. 

“Not a damn thing!” he protested, voice going shrill. The stories he’d heard about Jemma’s specialist friend had given him a healthy respect for her, but it was somewhat tempered by distance. That, and his overwhelming desire to assert his innocence. “I jus’ said good mornin’. Tha’s all, I swear!”

Turning his attention back to the biochemist, Fitz’ tone evened to something markedly more soothing than the way he’d just addressed Bobbi. “Jemma, I havenae been on the forums ye’. I jus’ woke up a few minutes ago. See?” He tilted the phone so she could see that he was still in his boxers and undershirt, then angled it toward the coffee pot. “‘M still waitin’ on the coffee t’ finish. I was jus’ callin’ so I could say hi.” 

Mollified by the engineer’s hurried explanation, Bobbi reached out to give Jemma’s shoulders a little shake. “Breathe, Jems,” she encouraged her friend, ducking her head to put her in the frame of the video call with Jemma. “Fitz, I’m sending her up to our rooms.” Once she’d gotten a good look at the engineer’s flushed, wide-eyed expression, the specialist grinned. “Oh. It’s like that, hm? I know Jemma looks all fucked out, but she’s only been sparring with me, I promise. I’ve been working her over since she got up this morning.” She looked back and forth between the now quiet and blushing Jemma, and a sputtering Fitz. “And now I’ll let you two have some privacy.” 

Giving Fitz a little wave, Bobbi sauntered down the hall, leaving Jemma biting her lip and staring at Fitz through their phones, looking shy. “Fitz- I-....” she hesitated, her own blush rising again. “Was that really why you seemed…. off?” 

“Uh… I… i’s jus’...”

Fitz fumbled for an explanation, unsure of what, exactly, he could or even should say. It was more than a little disquieting that the specialist, without even knowing him, had been able to so quickly pinpoint what had distracted him. He knew it was her job to read people, true, but he could do without Bobbi Morse telling Jemma when he was thinking dirty thoughts about her. 

Which was another issue, at least for Fitz. They’d slept together, yes, but did that mean he had the right to think of her that way? More importantly, how would Jemma feel knowing he thought of her that way? She’d been his only experience to date, hopefully his only experience for as long as she’d have him, so naturally he thought of her if and when the mood struck… but given her expression, he was suddenly worried he’d been wrong to do so. 

Jemma seemed shy, perhaps a bit embarrassed, and he flushed in response, ashamed that he’d made her uncomfortable. A part of him considered lying, just to put her at ease, but Fitz discounted the thought nearly as soon as he’d had it. She was the last person he should lie to, particularly about this. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah i’ is,” he admitted, blush worsening as he glanced down then quickly back at the screen. Jemma seemed a little stunned, her cheeks still a rosy pink, and Fitz began tripping over his words in an attempt to explain himself. “You jus’... the way you look reminded me of… well, you know. The las’ mornin’ in Miami. ‘M sorry, I dinnae mean t’ make you uncomfortable. I can stop, lass, if you wan’ me t’ stop, I promise.” 

Jemma fidgeted as she waited for Fitz’ reply, shifting anxiously on her feet until she finally propelled herself toward the elevator. He babbled out his explanation just as the doors slid shut behind her, and Jemma was grateful for the privacy. At first, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of Fitz thinking about her that way. It was flattering, of course, to be the object of someone’s desire for once, but still… 

It wasn’t until he mentioned he’d been reminded of the morning in Miami that Jemma softened. “Oh, Fitz,” she sighed, biting her lip. “I’m not uncomfortable because of you. I’m not really used to anyone thinking of me that way. I thought - obviously - that you were nervous about something completely different. I’m just a bit flustered. It’s okay.” When the elevator released her on her floor, she hurried through the halls to her apartment and then to her bedroom, sprawling across the bed. 

“I- I think a lot about that morning, too, you know.” 

Fitz was grateful when he heard the coffee stop percolating, giving him something to do to distract him a bit. Otherwise, he would have gone lobster red hearing her admit that she thought about that morning, too. Her words, while soft, where matter of fact, and in a strange way gave him a sense of calm. Given the state in which she’d answered the phone, his mind had made a naughty leap, but there had been so much more to that morning than that. Aside from the sex, there’d been friendship and tenderness and a hopeful quality to it all that had made him eager for more. 

“Well, tha’s why we’re doing this, righ’?” he asked, pouring the dark liquid into his favorite mug and doctoring it to his liking. He pointedly ignored Jemma’s withering stare when he added two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and began stirring the concoction. “T’ spend time together.” Realizing the potential implication of what he’d said, given the context of that morning’s confusion, Fitz was quick to clarify, “Outside of tha’. Workin’ and dates and the like.” 

Deciding he’d better shut up before he got himself into any more trouble, Fitz clamped his mouth shut and went back to stirring his coffee, hoping that Jemma would know what he meant. 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma said again, unconsciously repeating herself. She tipped over onto her stomach pulling a pillow under her chest and propping herself on her elbows to continue the conversation. It was easier to talk to him about personal matters when she was alone and didn’t have to worry about someone overhearing and possibly bringing up SHIELD regulations before she even had a chance to get Fitz here. 

She watched him quietly while he fiddled with the coffee, but eventually spoke up again. “I almost don’t want to have expectations,” Jemma admitted. “Yes, Miami happened, but that was also a lot faster than I ever saw myself jumping into a relationship.” Seeing Fitz’ expression shift, turning apprehensive, she hurried to continue. “I don’t regret it. And I’d like it to happen again, but-” 

“Fitz, I don’t just want- Oh, I don’t even know how to explain it. I’m hoping for a bit of everything, you know? Friends and lovers and partners and collaborators… Just because one aspect might or might not work out doesn’t mean I don’t still want the others, if that makes sense, but I’m going to try to have everything. I don’t usually ask for anything for myself, but this time I am.” Jemma bit her lip hard, glancing away from the screen where Fitz was staring at her, blue eyes wide. She couldn’t read his expression again, and it left her a little terrified. Jemma thought he might want the same things, hoped he did. 

“That morning… I want that. Not the sex. Or at least, not just the sex,” she whispered. “I want this new, older Fitz who treats me like I’m worth something, that what I say is important… that I’m important.” 

A fresh wave of shame broke over Fitz as Jemma’s words called to mind the teenager he’d been when they first met, and he broke eye contact, unable to look at her knowing the harm he’d caused. That Fitz hadn’t been able to abide the idea that he could be wrong, that someone had another way of tackling a problem that was just as good or effective as his own. In truth, he still struggled with the idea of collaborating with someone, of listening to their ideas and giving them just as much weight, but over the past six months it had been easy. At least, it had been easy where Jemma was concerned. She had shown him, both on the forums and in person, just how wrong he’d been. 

Fitz felt something collapse inside of him when he heard Jemma admit that he’d made her feel unimportant, or rather that she was unimportant to him. Trip’s words echoed in his mind, and he realized just how much work he had to do. The work didn’t scare him; Jemma was worth it. 

“Jem, I…” he sighed and looked directly into the phone once more. His stomach was a jumble of nerves, but he needed her to see him when he said this. “‘M so, so sorry I ever made you feel tha’ way. Tha’ you’re unimportan’. The only excuse I have is tha’ I was young and an idio’, and intimidated. ‘M sorry. You deserved better then, and you certainly deserve better now. 

“I cannae promise tha’ I’ll be perfec’. Tha’ I willnae do stupid things again and tha’ you’ll never be mad a’ me. But I will try. Tha’ I can promise.” 

“I know, Fitz. We both made mistakes, and I’m trying to move past that, like we agreed. I just- I had a crush on you then. Or at least what I thought was a crush, but I don’t even know if it was even real compared to how much I want this to work now,” she admitted softly, forcing her gaze back to the phone, hazel eyes bright. 

Jemma didn’t mean to keep bringing it up, but there was such an incredibly stark difference between Fitz’ behavior then and now. Even if she did have to call him on his behavior sometimes, she was older and wiser and willing to do so now, when before she’d been too frightened of making things even worse than they’d been. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I don’t even want you to be. Fitz- I want someone to love and respect me. To listen when I speak and understand what I mean. Who can do that without making me feel like I’m a freak for being who I am.” 

She sighed and shrugged, the movement awkward with the way she was lying on the bed. “I’d pretty much resigned myself to being alone. No one’s ever thought of me… like that.” Jemma whispered. “I don’t want to lose the hope that this might be the best thing that’s happened to both of us. Not yet. Not before we’ve even tried. So I’m going to stay focused on that. Making these projects the best they can possibly be, so we can figure it out. Together.” 

Behind Fitz the coffee pot beeped, signaling the end of its cycle, but it couldn’t hope to penetrate his pensive mood. Jemma’s words rang true, and he could see the logic in what she was saying. There was no point in getting their hopes up of them ever being more if they weren’t even going to be allowed to work together on the same base. In his naivety, he’d allowed himself to get swept away in the rush of emotion that had come with that first morning together, and Fitz was now forced to acknowledge that he had perhaps gotten ahead of himself in that regard. 

While he couldn’t quell what he felt for Jemma completely, he could at least put them in check for the time being. He hadn’t missed what she’d said about feeling like a freak, and loathed the thought that he might have done that to her in any way; the least he could do was let her take the reins here. 

“I-” he cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Jemma directly. “I can do tha’, lass. I mean, ‘m happy t’ focus on the projects. For now.” Once they were in the same place, however, he had every intention of following through on Trip’s advice and pursuing her to the best of his limited ability. He clearly had a lot of work to do when it came to making it up to Jemma, and he had no intention of wasting any time. 

“Jem?” The pet name was barely more than a whisper as it cleared his lips, but it was all he could manage with the nerves he was fighting. “You… you dinnae have a single reason t’ believe me, thanks t’ our past, but I’ll say i’ anyway. I think I can be tha’ person for you. Well, I hope you’ll be patient with me as I try.”

Jemma’s heart fell a bit at his words, and she started to speak, trying to explain that wasn’t what she’d meant. She couldn’t get a word in edgewise though, and fell silent again seeing the thoughtful expression on his face. Not expecting his quiet words - the break of his voice when he called her Jem had a lump forming in her throat - her emotions spilled over and her face twisted with the start of tears. Biting her lip sharply, she nodded, glossy-eyed. “I think so, too. Hope so… And I’ll try,” Jemma agreed, her voice catching. 

She didn’t want to be that girl, always bringing up the past, but the distance was making it difficult to resolve any of her feelings. And right now, feeling emotional and out of sorts, her body keyed up for some sort of release thanks to Bobbi’s workout routine and her fears about the forum feedback, Jemma didn’t want to put that on him, either. She’d already said too much. Or not enough, maybe. Afraid that all her confusion and upset would show, Jemma dropped the phone, sitting up and swiping at her eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she choked out, hurrying into the other room before Fitz caught the tell-tale sounds of her unexpected weeping. 

While he Fitz couldn’t hear her as she cried, he hadn’t missed the sheen in Jemma’s eyes, or the way her face had seemingly collapsed as she’d answered him. “Jemma! Jemma, ‘m sorry, I dinnae mean-” He tried to call after her, hoping to have the chance to comfort her, to make up for the distress he’d caused, but it was too late. She dropped the phone and disappeared from view, leaving him to fret as he stood in his kitchen, still in his pants and undershirt. 

Fighting down the urge to vent his own frustration, Fitz turned toward the coffee pot, now full of bitter, life-giving liquid, and pour a mug. He took his time adding a dash of cream and half of the sugar bowl, stirring to ensure that everything was properly incorporated. His eyes kept drifting over to his mobile, hoping to see Jemma’s face once more, but he had no such luck. Just as panic began to set in (he had been contemplating asking Trip for Bobbi’s number so she could check on the biochemist), Jemma reappeared. The relief he felt was instantaneous, and Fitz nearly dropped his coffee trying to pick up his phone. 

“Jemma.” Her name rushed out of his mouth, sharper than he’d intended thanks to his building anxiety. He wasn’t sure what he should say, or if there even was a “right” thing he could do in this situation. All Fitz knew was that he wanted to make her happy, whether he was there or not. “I wish I was there, Jemma. I- I wish tha’ I could hold you and we could talk without these bloody things.” He jerked his head down, indicating the handset cradled in his palm. It might have been a foolish thought, but he truly believe that if he could simply get his arms around her, could bury his nose in her hair and breathe in the scent of her shampoo and perfume and the underlying bit that was purely Jemma, that it would all be better for them both. But he couldn’t, at least not now, and Fitz found that he was reminded anew about just how important their joint projects were.

“Me too,” she said immediately. Jemma knew her eyes were still a bit red and her cheeks too pink, but it couldn’t be helped. Waiting for that to go away would leave Fitz waiting even longer and she already felt bad for bolting. “There’s too much at stake and I don’t… It’s not you. Mostly.” Jemma hesitated, making a face as Fitz watched her closely. “I don’t handle stress well, especially long-term. Fitz, do you remember the month leading up to finals at the Academy? Or even my presentation at the conference… That’s all this is, really. I’ll be okay.” 

It wasn’t the first time Fitz had seen her behave strangely or get overwhelmed by stress and emotion. Jemma thought he’d get it, given those examples. Exam periods at the Academy had meant a frazzled, babbling and sleepless Jemma, who was prone to clumsiness and silly mistakes in her frantic efforts to be perfect. 

Uncertain and feeling more than a little guilty for not handling this better - she was 27, for goodness’ sake - Jemma reached out and brushed a finger over the screen of her phone. Even though it was only the image of Fitz, a cool touchscreen under her fingers instead of warm skin and scratchy stubble, it made her feel a tiny bit better. Until she thought about their projects again, at least. “I’m more than a bit terrified to look at the forums. What if we missed something huge, Fitz?” 

Her explanation satisfied Fitz, although he couldn’t quite say he was pleased. He’d never been much of one for soothing things over with words, bumbling over word choice and often saying something even more offensive. That had certainly happened at the Academy and even in Miami, and he still worried that no matter what he tried to do over this distance, Jemma would still be upset. Still, he had to try for her. 

“I really dinnae think we missed anythin’, Jem,” he replied, tone pensive. They had both gone over both presentations with a fine-toothed comb, exactly for this reason. They both had too much riding on getting these projects right to leave things to mere chance. “I think we’re both jus’ nervous t’ see wha’ people think. The reviews were positive when we were in Miami. I know tha’ was months ago, but I really think we jus’ strengthened wha’ we already had.” He drummed his fingers along the countertop, considering their options, and blew out a sharp breath. 

“Would you feel better if we logged on righ’ now? We could check together.”

Jemma swallowed hard and nodded. “I think so,” she said softly. “Although I might lose it again if there’s anything terribly negative…” She grabbed the phone from where it was propped against her pillows and moved to her desk, flipping open the laptop and logging onto it before navigating online to the forums. Waiting for Fitz to do the same, Jemma caught herself biting at her cuticles between scratching the inside of her wrists - bad habits that gave away her stress every time. 

Forcing her hands back to the keyboard, she hovered the pointer over the link to her project files, noting there were dozens of comments posted on it since last night. “Fiiiiiiitz,” Jemma whined softly, her nerves making her impatient now that the moment was there. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m ready,” he muttered, settling himself at his desk. He sucked in a deep breath when he saw just how many comments both of their projects had garnered since he’d gone to sleep a few hours prior. A reaction like that, either their colleagues thought they were out of their collective minds, or they were hoping to jump in and get some credit for the ideas. As much as he hated the idea of anyone else trying to take credit for their work, he’d much rather deal with the clingers-on than having to start their project anew. Oddly enough, as much as he hated to see what he’d done wrong splayed across the forums, he was more worried about how Jemma would react. It was bad enough he couldn’t be there to help her now; he didn’t want to imagine how much worse it would be if their plans went to hell, too. 

“All righ’, on three.” His voice was steady, far more so than he’d expected, and Fitz felt a wave of relief. Maybe he could be there for her the way she needed him to be. “One… two… three.” Together, they clicked into the files and began scanning the notes. 

“Holy hell… Jemma, they… they love i’.”


	11. Chapter 11

The relief from worrying about their peer reviews had Jemma walking on air for the next week. They were required to leave it up for two weeks, incorporating any peer suggestions, but there really wasn’t anything else to do. At the end of the second week, Jemma flagged her project for her supervisor’s review, making sure all the appropriate notations were made to give Fitz his share of credit for the design and overall within the project. 

When she hadn’t heard anything - or even seen her boss - at the end of the third week, Jemma was ready to fall apart again. She had put all her hopes on this one project and if it failed for any reason, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Fitz had mentioned leaving SHIELD as a possibility, but Jemma really didn’t want to go. She liked the freedom she was given here to pick and choose according to her interests. Fitz had once again tried to be reassuring and Jemma’s anxiety was having none of it. 

That’s what led her to track down her supervisor early one morning and confront him about the project review. His unsatisfactory response was along the line of ‘I’ve seen it, no I don’t have an answer, and you’ll have to wait for more information.” Frustrated, Jemma put her things in the locker in the lab and wandered outside, trying to let the natural beauty of the rainforest soothe her nerves. 

Fitz’ own boss, for all that she couldn’t seem to stand having Fitz at the Ranch, was just as dismissive of both products. When he tried to speak to her about either, all she would do was hand him another list of repairs or upgrades that needed to be made. There was one time, after he had been particularly insistent (and if he were truthful, a bit dickish), that she leveled him with a look and asked why he would even want to be in the middle of the rain forest. If anything, she’d pointed out, they’d want him at the Hub to oversee the production of his drones and the weaponry; besides, he and Simmons had worked well from a distance, and surely they could continue to do so. There was no real need to transfer either of them anywhere. 

That, added to a clearly anxious Jemma, had left Fitz feeling entirely adrift, ineffective and uncertain as to what he should do next. The two of them had formulated what he’d thought was a perfect plan, but it seemed that at every turn, all they heard was no. 

Sitting at his workbench, trying to look busy but failing miserably, Fitz stared down at his mobile, thumb gently brushing over the black screen. What he wanted more than anything was to hear Jemma’s voice, but lately it seemed like all he did was add to her stress. Still, he wanted to talk to her, to communicate in some way, so he woke the unit up and quickly sent her a text message. 

Jemma [11:11 am]: Just thinking about you.   
Jemma [11:11 am]: Wanted to say hi. 

Jemma felt the phone buzz in her pocket as she wandered the area around the Treehouse. Past a certain point, she’d lose signal. The network that allowed them to even get cell service in the middle of the rainforest was good, but it was focused on the base. Pausing to look at the messages, Jemma felt her heart lift a bit at the sight of Fitz’ texts. He was doing his best, she had to admit, trying to keep her spirits up and being attentive as the days went on with no answers. 

The problem was that she was an intense worrier by nature. And the way her supervisor was putting her off was past worrisome and into frustrating - but also scary. Jemma couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done something wrong, if she was going to lose her job, if someone else was going to be given her work to further develop. 

Sighing, she unlocked her phone to tap in a reply. 

Fitz [2:14pm]: Hi  
Fitz [2:14pm]: How are things today?

He snatched up the phone when it buzzed against the metal countertop, all too willing to have an excuse to stop reading the engine reports that had been generated that morning. Fitz was relieved to see Jemma had responded, but felt his mouth quirk down a bit as he read them. He knew the slow pace was killing her, as it was him, but he was able to sink himself in the monotony of his daily tasks. His would-be girlfriend, however, seemed to have difficulty taking her mind off it. Not for the first time, the engineer wished he could be there for her, if only to try and take her mind off the entire situation for a little while. 

Simmons [11:15 am]: Same old. Engine reports today, but I’m nearly done.   
Simmons [11:15 am]: Things are bad enough that I may actually ask Trip to train today.   
Simmons [11:16 am]: He usually has to hunt me down. 

Jemma hesitated, reading Fitz’ messages, but found herself smiling a bit. She could almost imagine the engineer, bored, poking about and irritating everyone at the Ranch with his inactivity. Trip would have his work cut out for him, managing the grumpy Scot during a workout. Although, she did like that mental image and debated teasing him about it. 

Fitz [2:19pm]: Trip’s got a healthy heart, I’m sure  
Fitz [2:20pm]: He can withstand that big a shock 

She paused again, the teasing mood fading away nearly as soon as it had come, still caught up in her thoughts. Jemma had to admit though, Fitz tried his best to make her feel better when he figured out she was unhappy. Even if it wasn’t always successful, it bolstered her to know he cared enough to try. 

Fitz [2:21pm]: I hate waiting… I just wish they’d tell us one way or another   
Fitz [2:21pm]: I miss you

Fitz watched as her messages came through one at a time, and actually chuckled aloud at her little jibe about shocking his roommate into a heart attack. It quickly faded though as her final two messages lit up his screen. He could practically imagine how she looked, Jemma’s golden brown eyes just barely concealing her worry and the corners of her mouth tugging downward as they conversed. Acting on the impulse to comfort her, his thumb flew across the screen. 

Jemma [11:22 am]: Miss you too, baby girl  
Jemma [11:22 am]: I wish I was with you  
Jemma [11:23 am]: But I think if I mention the words Treehouse and transfer to my SO one more time, she’ll find a way to give me the boot. 

The corner of Jemma’s mouth twitched back upward at his last text, even as she sighed softly, her heart pattering at the endearment. If only they could be certain booting Fitz off the Ranch would result in him landing here, to work with her. She’d meant what she’d said. Jemma would handle a ‘no’ better than she was dealing with the uncertainty of the current situation. SHIELD worked in fast, decisive measures, or slow, bureaucratic ones. Her hopes that the importance of her and Fitz’ projects would result in the prior process had long since been dashed. 

Fitz [2:24 pm]: Mine too  
Fitz [2:25 pm]: I keep trying to tell myself that SHIELD couldn’t possibly be so stupid as to ignore the potential benefits of letting us work together again  
Fitz [2:26 pm]: But they’re stubborn, too  
Fitz [2:26 pm]: I want to know, one way or another, so I can start planning again for whatever needs to be done  
Fitz [2:27 pm]: I wonder if it would make a difference if we both threatened to quit and take our work elsewhere?

The hot-headed, rash Scotsman in Fitz quite liked Jemma’s suggestion; certainly, they’d both been recruited to SHIELD instead of opting to join up. The organization needed them more than they needed it, particularly if they decided to pitch themselves as a team to the research and development divisions of any number of private firms. But, he also knew Jemma. She was anxious about the slow process, and an anxious Jemma was far more likely to make declarations she might regret once she came back to her senses. Fitz gave his next responses quite a bit of thought, and eventually replied. 

Jemma [11:29 am]: It’s an option I think we should talk about.  
Jemma [11:30 am]: Weigh all the pros and cons  
Jemma [11:30 am]: It can be one of our contingencies, if we need it

He read and reread the messages, worrying his lower lip as he did so. Fitz would be more than happy to walk away from SHIELD if he knew Jemma was willing to walk away with him. It might have been insane, given it was the only work he’d known in his adult life, and they certainly weren’t officially an item, but the choice would be rather easy, for him at least. For Jemma… he wasn’t so sure. There weren’t as many companies willing to build a state-of-the-art facility in a place as ripe with research opportunities for her as the Amazonian rain forest. Fitz didn’t want her throwing that away in the heat of the moment. 

Jemma returned to her pacing between sets of messages, circling around a clearing near the lab entrance. She wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to use it for that purpose, a clear path worn around the edges of the area. It might only be about thirty feet across, but that was more than enough for a good bout of anxious movement to work itself out, given enough time. 

Rereading Fitz’ latest texts, she huffed out a breath. Jemma should have known he’d be thinking of contingency plans while she was panicking about Plan A. Fitz’ brain was almost always off in twenty directions while she got bogged down in details. It was why they were best when working together. He prompted her out of ruts and she drew him back onto productive lines of thought. 

Fitz [2:34 pm]: ………………….  
Fitz [2:34 pm]: I can’t imagine we have too many options  
Fitz [2:35 pm]: SHIELD lets us work together  
Fitz [2:35 pm]: SHIELD doesn’t let us work together  
Fitz [2:35 pm]: We leave SHIELD and do what we want anyway  
Fitz [2:36 pm]: Have I missed anything?

While there was a part of Fitz that found Jemma’s rather decisive thinking when it came to them reassuring, still found himself discomforted as he stared down at the screen, all pretense of work entirely forgotten. What if a year into their partnership, she realized it wasn’t what she wanted? Or, even if she liked working with him still, what if the work bored her? She was a certified genius after all, easily one of the most brilliant women Fitz had ever met; what if she wound up thinking working with him ultimately wasn’t worth leaving behind the research opportunities presented by SHIELD?

His stomach churning with the fear that maybe one day Jemma could wake up and resent him, Fitz licked his lips and replied. 

Jemma [11:38 am]: No, you haven’t missed anything.   
Jemma [11:38 am]: I just don’t want you looking back on this in a year and regretting it  
Jemma [11:39 am]: Miserable because you left the Treehouse   
Jemma [11:39 am]: I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, but I know what’s out there for an engineer  
Jemma [11:40 am]: I want to make sure you’d have the same opportunity 

Fitz [2:47 pm]: Are you trying to find reasons I shouldn’t leave SHIELD, if they won’t let us work together? :(  
Fitz [2:48 pm]: I don’t know if I’m more flattered by the concern  
Fitz [2:48 pm]: Or insulted you think I’m that fickle

Jemma couldn’t help the surge of hurt at his comments. Even with the ‘follow you to the ends of the earth’ bit, it felt like Fitz was trying to brace them both and warn her away from leaving. She shoved the phone in her pocket, curling her arms around herself and continuing to walk circles around the clearing, arms wrapped tight around herself. Why did Fitz think she’d regret leaving? Sure, Jemma liked the Treehouse, but it was because she was useful here. There was so much to be learned from this place and these things. 

Still, that didn’t mean Jemma thought she couldn’t be useful or effective elsewhere. She wasn’t so clueless to think there weren’t thousands more applications of her knowledge of biochemistry to find elsewhere. Like she’d said, it would hinge on finding the right person to work for or to fund her work. 

Fitz felt his spirits fall, each of her following texts taking a bit of the wind out of his sails. Somehow, without meaning to, he’d insulted her. He reminded himself that Jemma was feeling anxious, and that texts weren’t always the best way to communicate, and he’d learned over the months they’d been consciously working together. Still, it was hard not to feel a little stung by her wondering if he was merely trying to get rid of her; the thought had never even crossed his mind. 

Jemma [11:50 am]: Leaving is a big step. Like leaving home for a second time.   
Jemma [11:50 am]: I want you, as a lab partner and all the rest  
Jemma [11:50 am]: If it takes leaving, so be it.   
Jemma [11:51 am]: I just wanted to hear you were certain, too

Watching his messages come through rapid-fire, knowing he’d typed them that way, too, Jemma sighed again and glanced at the Treehouse. She couldn’t lie and say she would have no regrets about walking away from her work here, but that was the instinctive reaction of a scientist shown a vast, barely discovered ecosystem and then told she couldn’t explore it. 

Jemma moved to the far end of the clearing, away from the door and the path in and out, giving herself relative privacy. There was part of her that wanted to simply hit the call button and let the now-familiar tones of Fitz’ voice soothe her out of her upset, but she also knew that fleeting comfort came at a price. Fitz would feel worse, and likely guilty, that it only lasted as long as she kept him on the phone. It wasn’t fair for her to do that to him just for a few minutes of forgetfulness, even though she suspected he’d never say a word of complaint. 

Fitz [2:55 pm]: I don’t want that to be our first choice  
Fitz [2:55 pm]: But I’d leave if things came down to that  
Fitz [2:56 pm]: It’s not as if SHIELD couldn’t reassign me on a whim, anyway

~*~

As if Jemma’s words were an omen, she and Bobbi were both called to her supervisor’s office three days later and summarily told to pack their things. With no information other than they were being reassigned and they couldn’t tell anyone - Jemma got a very significant glare from her supervisor at that - they were escorted to their apartment and watched while they gathered their things. 

Scared, Jemma shot a look at their escort and then at Bobbi, halting the specialist’s steps. “Bobbi,” she hissed, “Did you know about this?” 

“Not a clue. Not the first time it’s happened to me, though.” The older woman looked relatively unfazed by the sudden change of plans, or the escort. “Just pack up, Jems. It’ll be fine. It’s not like SHIELD is in the habit of deliberately harming their agents.” Bobbi wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on either, but she was better at going with the flow. And if she’d learned anything about Jemma over the past several months, Bobbi knew that if she showed any sign of nerves, her friend would pick up on it immediately and feed her own fears. 

Jemma reluctantly packed, her belongings tucked away into three bags that were quickly whisked away, along with her phone. She protested, but the guard and then Bobbi both shushed her. “Jemma, relax. This is how SHIELD keeps their secrets.” 

“But Fitz-” Jemma began, but Bobbi shook her head and the biochemist fell silent, knowing it was useless. Bobbi was a friend, but she was also a highly trained SHIELD operative. She’d never go against regulations without a damned good reason, and Jemma’s need to stay in close contact with Fitz wasn’t enough. 

~*~

“You make a good poin’, but why do you think she hasnae even bothered t’ tex’?”

Fitz leaned against the squat rack, arms crossed over his chest, gaze turned in his friend’s general direction without really looking at him. From what Trip could gather, the engineer had lost contact with his girlfriend two days prior; he seemed to think it was over something he’d said, and had been rehashing the topic endlessly, despite the specialist’s quickly evaporating patience. 

Finally giving in to his frustration, Trip hoisted the bar back onto the rack with a grunt and swung around on the bench to face his friend. “Fitz!” His exasperation caused him to shout, drawing the attention of a few other agents working out on the far side of the gym. He flashed them an apologetic look before turning back to the Scot, who despite spending the past hour in the gym had yet to break a sweat. “Enough. You can’t keep going over that last conversation. You’ll hear from her eventually. Now, less talk, more lift. It’ll take your mind off it.”

Fitz shot him a disgusted look, but pushed himself upright and slowly began shifting plates off the bar. He was well aware that Trip was annoyed with him, but that didn’t stop him from running his mouth anyway. “I jus’... ‘m tryin’ t’ do wha’ you suggested, t’ remember tha’ I need to treat her well an’ be there for her. But how can I if she willnae answer the bloody telephone?” 

Trip watched as Fitz began a half-hearted chest press, doing his best to keep his face stoic. He could understand why the younger man was perturbed by the lack of contact; since their return from Miami, the scientists hadn’t been out of touch for more than a few hours at a time, between planning their projects and simply making up for the years they’d lost. He and Bobbi had exchanged a few texts over it, both terribly amused at how their at-times awkward friends were handling their long distance relationship. 

It wasn’t as though they only gossiped about the two scientists, but he would have expected to hear an earful from Bobbi if Fitz actually had upset Jemma. Something felt off to the specialist, but Trip would never dream of saying anything to the engineer, however; he was a mess enough as it was without him actively encouraging that particular train of thought. 

“Look, man, sometimes, all you can do is -”

“Fitz! Triplett!” 

The Ranch commander, for being such a petite woman, certainly could make herself known when she wished, and her shout nearly startled Fitz into dropping the bar onto his neck. Trip rushed to catch it, and helped him reset it so they could both face Agent Hayes. Satisfied that both their eyes were on her, she continued, “Shower and pack your things. All your things. Your transport leaves at 1830.” Her piece said, she turned sharply on her heel and strode out of the gym. Fitz couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining it, but he could have sworn he saw a pleased smile grace her usually severe features. It didn’t surprise him in the least, given how open she’d been about her desire to have him off her base. 

“Trip… d’ you know wha’ this is about?” Fitz pitched his voice low, not wanting to be overheard by the other agents they were rushing past on their way back to their quarters. 

“Not a damn clue,” Trip answered honestly, eyes trained ahead. “But, you’ve seen this before. Smells like a transfer to me.” Now, for his friend’s sake, he hoped it was a move closer to Jemma Simmons, and not just another punishment for being moody and difficult. 

Jemma had lost track of where she was between the various flights and time changes, and she was coming to realize that was a deliberate tactic on SHIELD’s part. Wondering just what was going on, and not getting any satisfactory answers, she’d fallen into silence, not talking to anyone. That included Bobbi, and even though she’d seen the specialist’s worried gaze fall on her several times, Jemma stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. 

At this point she felt like Bobbi’s cool compliance with this rigmarole was simply insult to injury. Jemma wanted to be on the ground for more than a few hours at a time and let in on whatever this big secret was, or let go to find her own work. It had been close to four days and even without the uncertainty, not having anything to keep her mind busy was wearing on Jemma. Her bags were under lock and key, there were no phones or computers, and the few books and magazines she’d found were entirely unsatisfactory. 

The quinjet tipped downward, losing altitude and Jemma sighed. Another anonymous SHIELD base, coming right up. 

Bobbi watched Jemma from the opposite seat, worried for her friend. She’d mentioned to the supervising officer at the last spot that Jemma was close to cracking, and hoped that someone had finally decided to put an end to this. The specialist was puzzled by all the flights and the backtracking - Jemma had suspected it, but Bobbi knew they hadn’t gone nearly as far in distance as the time in the air would indicate. The flights had circled, backtracked and overlapped. She was mostly sure they were still in the Americas, although the terrain outside could be any one of a dozen locales. 

As the jet landed and taxied, Jemma fidgeted and found that she was suddenly quite angry about all this. SHIELD may as well have kidnapped her with the way they’d kept her in the dark and disconnected her from everyone. Fitz must have been frantic, she thought, especially after the snippy way she’d cut him off during their last conversation and ended the call. He’d been frustrated too, but there hadn’t been a chance to sort it out before all this happened. 

An older man in a dark suit came up the ramp, and Bobbi visibly startled, putting Jemma on edge and shifting so the chair was between herself and the unknown agent. 

“Agent Simmons, Agent Morse. I apologize for the delay. Welcome to the Preserve. I’m Agent Coulson.” He led the way off the quinjet and into a small hangar. “We’re expecting one more arrival this afternoon, within the hour. From there I’ll be able to take you to the actual base.” 

By the time they were allowed off their own quinjet, Fitz was practically snarling. Trip hadn’t bothered with conversation during the last two stretches of their journey, as everything he said to the younger man resulted in a terse comment and a glare that set all of his hair on edge. He clearly wasn’t handling the change well, and frankly Trip couldn’t blame him. At least the last time the engineer had been transferred, he’d been told what was going on. Here, he was flying blind, an uncomfortable feeling for anyone.

They were greeted by an agent in a nondescript suit, who spared all of a moment for a smile before turning and leading them to a small room just off the hangar. Fitz glowered at the man, his agitation growing with each passing second as the man blathered on and on about the base they were on. Just as he looked about ready to strangle the man with his own lanyard, they were ushered into a room with the promise of someone being with them shortly. 

“No! No’ tha’ mess again!” Fitz started toward the agent, murderous intent written plainly on his face, only to be blocked by the steel sliding shut. “Bollocks,” he muttered, giving a half-hearted kick at the door, shoulders slumped in disappointment. 

The only good thing that happened in that hour was Jemma and Bobbi’s bags were returned to them. Jemma greedily snatched up her phone, groaning when she remembered it had been four days. The battery on the smartphone needed to charge some before she could even turn it on. Thankfully there was a dusty outlet along one wall she could plug into. As soon as the power was up and she had a signal, the string of texts and emails and messages from Fitz came streaming in, along with those from colleagues that had piled up. 

Ignoring everything else, Jemma opened a new text window and fired off a series of messages.

Fitz [12:27 pm]: I’m sorry - they didn’t give me a choice  
Fitz [12:27 pm]: Call me soon as you get this and I’ll explain  
Fitz [12:27 pm]: If you ever want to speak to me again, that is

Unsure of the time difference - it might well be night time in Wyoming, for all she knew - Jemma forced herself to turn her notifications on and put the phone down to let it charge while she waited for a reply. An hour came and went with nothing. Not from Fitz, or from this Agent Coulson character. At least, not until she heard booted footsteps and muffled voices from the hall. Sunk into dejection, curled into a chair in the corner and staring at the phone, the sound of Fitz’ voice seemed like a poor joke at first. 

Then she heard it again, the sound of a heavy door shutting, and that wonderfully irritated brogue that had become so familiar to her. Scrambling to her feet, Jemma darted around a stack of crates, back toward the door of the small building. “Fitz!” 

Jemma blurted out his name, barely registering Trip’s presence, and ignoring Bobbi’s worried glance as she flung herself at the engineer. Unintentionally shoving him bodily back against the door, Jemma bruised her knuckles against the hard metal as she wound herself around Fitz and buried her face against his shoulder, clinging hard. 

He barely had a moment’s notice before a Jemma-shaped blur hurled itself at him, and Fitz instinctively brought his arms up to hold her tight against his chest. He wouldn’t have believed it was happening if he weren’t there to witness it, and pressed his face in against her hair, trying to take it all in. He’d been tired, worn out just a few moments ago, but having her with him, in the flesh, wiped all of that away. Fitz couldn’t bring himself to care about the grimy feeling that continuous travel seemed to have worn into his skin, or the fact that the two specialists were watching them raptly from across the room. 

“Hey, hey, baby girl,” he murmured, pulling back so he could whisper in her ear, not wanting their first meeting in ages to be broadcast to everyone. “I missed you.” Fitz was very much aware that they were likely being watched, and he managed to keep himself from kissing her despite how badly he wanted to, but couldn’t keep his hands to himself entirely. He withdrew just far enough to see her face, and bringing up his hand to cup her cheek. Jemma still looked shaken, unsure of what she was seeing or what was going on, and Fitz smiled at her as his thumb brushed across her the apple of her cheek, wanting to reassure her in some small way.

She shivered faintly at his soft whisper, reveling at getting to hear Fitz’ endearment for her in person for the first time. Over the course of the last few days, Jemma had given up hope that they’d be assigned together, that she’d somehow gotten herself into trouble with SHIELD. Seeing him here now was a relief, although she still didn’t know what they were doing here. This surely didn’t seem like a standard reassignment. 

Unconsciously tipping her face into his touch, Jemma let out a little huff as it registered that Fitz was really there in front of her and got a good look at him. “You look like you haven’t slept in days,” she whispered, just as aware of their audience and not wanting to share the moment any more than they had to. “Did they pull the same thing with you? Flying all over and not telling you anything? Bobbi and I have been on the move for four days with only a few breaks,” Jemma babbled out.

She didn’t even think to move away from him until Fitz shifted, further squashing her knuckles between his wiry body and the steel door. Jemma winced and pulled her hands out from behind him.

He frowned when she pulled away, puzzled until he saw her glance down at her hands. Careful to not jar her and do more damage as a result, Fitz cupped Jemma’s slender fingers in his hand and glanced them over as he answered her. 

“Two days o’ movin’ for us. They took everythin’ - phone, laptop - and put us on a quin without sayin’ a word. ‘M guessin’ they did the same t’ you, righ’?” He paused in his examination to look into Jemma’s hazel eyes, which were blown wide with the effort of taking everything in, and waited for her little nod before he went back to what he’d been doing. “I’d figured somethin’ was wrong when I didnae hear from you for two days. Even if you were mad a’ me, I though’ you’d give me a chance t’ explain myself, a’ the very leas’.”

Fitz lowered her hands so he could wrap an arm around her shoulders once more, pulling her close. “Need t’ watch ou’ for steel doors, lass. They hit back. Be careful with your knuckles for a bi’, yeah?”

Jemma nodded, letting Fitz draw her back in, tucking her head in on his shoulder, her nose fitting in against his collarbone. She gingerly set her hands at Fitz’ hips, wary of her new bruises and of putting them into too intimate a position. “I finally got to text you about an hour ago. Guess I know why you didn’t reply now,” she whispered, her voice sounding thick. 

Now that the initial shock of seeing him was fading, it was a relief to know he wasn’t angry with her. And that there was hope for more - SHIELD wouldn’t have bothered going through all this effort and then putting them in the same place if they weren’t being assigned together. The secrecy was still an issue though. What were they going to be working on that called for all this? And why send two specialists with them? It worried her that she was about to get an inside look at one of the shadier sides of SHIELD’s mission. 

“You two might want to move,” Bobbi said after a moment. “At some point, someone is going to open that door, and you two are likely to end up falling over.” It was a reasonable observation from her perspective, and the specialist also didn’t want to think about someone like Agent Coulson - or the Koenigs, if the glimpse she’d gotten of Trip and Fitz’ escort had been accurate - finding those two so wrapped up in each other. Even if it was kind of adorable. 

Besides, she had a smirking Triplett to attend to. Bobbi had somehow deluded herself into misremembering that smile. It really was a deadly weapon in the man’s arsenal of charm. 

“She has a point,” Jemma said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “C’mon. There are chairs around by where my phone is plugged in.” She drew back again, this time to tug Fitz around the stacks of crates and out of Bobbi and Triplett’s line of sight.

He risked a glance at the specialists only to quickly look down as a blush worked its way up his cheeks. Triplett, at least, seemed intent on the tall blonde he knew was Bobbi Morse, but she was watching them, her smile all too knowing for Fitz’ liking. Keeping his fingers laced loosely with Jemma’s he allowed her to tug him back around the crates from which she appeared and over to two arm chairs that, while clearly had seen better days, were still serviceable.

Fitz looked between the two, considering their options. The seats were certainly hidden from most of the room’s sightlines, thanks to the hastily stacked crates, and the specialists were engaged in their own round of flirtatious banter, from what he could gather. Giving Jemma a sly grin, he slipped around her to flop into the nearest chair, and gently tugged her over to him. 

“C’mere, lass, and le’ me give you a proper greetin’.” 

With a shy glance back around the crates, reassuring herself that Bobbi and Trip weren’t eyeing them, Jemma followed Fitz’ suggestion. Squeezing in next to him, Jemma carefully turned to drape her legs over Fitz’ lap, tucking in against him. Just the scent of him brought back the sense memory of that single night together in Miami, and Jemma resolved to do whatever it took to keep him with her and see where this was going. 

In the meantime, Jemma bit her lip, her own tiredness showing through more now that the adrenaline was draining from her system. Even so, she certainly wasn’t going to say no to a kiss or two, and she leaned in, pressing her forehead softly against Fitz’. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I’ve gotten so used to just being able to grab my phone when I have something to say…” 

Fitz allowed his eyes to drift shut as she leaned into him, soothing himself with her presence. A smile stretched his lips as she spoke, and he nodded his agreement without pulling away from her. “I know wha’ you mean,” he whispered, voice going gravelly now that he’d allowed himself to relax. “Go’ spoiled bein’ able t’ talk t’ you whenever I wanted.”

Fitz opened his eyes and gave her a lazy grin. He knew they weren’t alone, that whoever had pulled them from their respective labs could come in at any moment, but he was more than willing to pretend he was along with Jemma. Winding a gentle hand into her hair, he gently tilted her toward him. “I could ge’ used t’ this, too, though,” he teased before pressing his mouth against hers. 

As much as she’d love to let go and lose herself in his kisses, Jemma kept them short and sweet, chaste, even. They didn’t need to get too distracted, not when everything was still so uncertain and their friends were lying in wait to tease them mercilessly. 

Her battered fingers found their way around the back of his neck, thumbs rubbing over the third-day scruff darkening Fitz’ jaw. Jemma drew back enough to rub her nose against his affectionately. “We should save that for later, really,” she murmured, her tone regretful. “After Coulson comes back and explains what’s going on here.” The older man had promised an hour, but it had been more than that before Fitz and Trip showed up. And the building was silent other than their conversations in here. Who knew how long it would be before he came back. 

As much as he didn’t like what Jemma had said, Fitz could see the logic in it. As much as he craved alone time with her, he wasn’t exactly free to act as he wished. That didn’t stop him from pouting a bit though as he leaned back in his seat, taking her with him and settling her against his chest. They had waited this many months; he could be patient a while longer if it meant he’d eventually get to be with Jemma for the foreseeable future. 

Fitz lost track of time with Jemma tucked against him, speaking quietly, alternating between speculating over what had caused SHIELD to bring them here and fantasizing about what they would work on first if they were permitted to work together officially. Sooner than either of them would have liked, the squeaking of the heavy door’s hinges had them scrambling to their feet as a man, who Fitz could only assume was the Agent Coulson Jemma had mentioned, called out to them. 

“Agents Fitz and Simmons? Join us, please.”


	12. Chapter 12

As it turned out, Bobbi seemed to be familiar with the older Agent, taking the lead as Trip unobtrusively ushered Jemma and Fitz out the door in front of him, and taking up the rear as they left the small building. From there they were herded into a Jeep and down a rutted dirt road, the vehicle jostling them all. Jemma studied the forest as they passed through, peering around Trip and Fitz and trying to identify their location by flora and fauna alone. 

The area was quite remote, with no signs of other roads or any sort of man-made construction, and she eventually leaned toward Trip. “Southeastern United States?” 

The specialist shot her a surprised look and grinned widely, impressed. He’d heard so much about Jemma from Fitz that he hadn’t been entirely sure how much of it was legit and how much was hyperbole. The limited sample he’d gotten at the conference had been heavily science based, so he knew she was intelligent in that realm, but he hadn’t expected common sense. “Which state?”

“You’re overestimating my knowledge of geography now,” Jemma whispered. “Am I right?” 

“Yeah, but how’d you guess?” Trip replied, drawing Fitz’ attention on her other side.

Jemma wrinkled her nose and shrugged, blushing faintly and awfully pleased with herself. “The trees and a few animals I spotted, combined with the climate. There’s only a few places that met the criteria and I knew there was something fishy about all the flights. We kept backtracking after the flight north from Brazil.” 

Even Bobbi looked surprised when she glanced at Jemma, but there was pride there, too. “Nice job, Jems.” 

Coulson glanced back over his shoulder at the biochemist, looking interested by Jemma’s deduction, and she realized it was the first true expression she’d seen on the older man’s face. He brought the Jeep to a halt a few minutes later, but Jemma couldn’t see anything even remotely resembling a base. It wasn’t until a keypad slid up from a pile of pine needles on the ground that Jemma understood just how secret this base was. 

A section of the road lifted up, the Jeep was maneuvered onto it and lowered, putting them on an entirely different road, underground. Jemma swallowed hard, hoping this was simply a secret and not something underhanded that SHIELD was working on. 

Fitz had been content to bask in Jemma’s presence as they drove, his hand settling first on her knee and later slipping over to twine their fingers together. He glanced out the window next to him and counted, practicing a trick Trip had taught him to estimate distance traveled while driving. He didn’t expect they’d need an escape, not with how comfortable both Trip and Bobbi seemed with their chauffeur, but he figured a little extra practice wouldn’t hurt him. 

Their side conversation caught his attention, but what really intrigued him was the over-sized trap door they drove through, and the underground access road Coulson was soon speeding along. He dropped Jemma’s hand to shift himself closer to the door, his nose practically pressed against the window as he looked around. He could see pipes and cables, presumably electricity, water, and both SHIELD’s secure intranet and internet connections. There were a few other roads, for lack of a better term, which branched off the one they were on, and Fitz thought he could see cargo doors every so often. 

Leaning back in his seat, he glanced first at Trip, then Jemma, and murmured, “Wherever we’re goin’, i’s big… and well equipped.” 

Jemma ducked as Trip reached behind her and thwacked the back of Fitz’ head. “That’s what she said, man,” the specialist laughed, breaking some of the tension that had filled the air once the Jeep had descended into the SHIELD base. “Think before you speak!” 

The banter put Jemma a bit more at ease. Certainly Trip and Bobbi wouldn’t let anything happen to her or Fitz if they could help it, right? The roadway was almost disturbingly empty, the sound of the Jeep’s engine not even echoing in the dead space, which set off alarm bells to her. Fitz would likely know why they’d done that sort of sound dampening, but she didn’t want to ask in front of Coulson. 

Eventually he brought the Jeep to a halt in front of another cargo door, although for the life of her she couldn’t see anything different about this one compared to all the others. After a few seconds, the door slid up, revealing a large garage. More rooms were visible on the other side, through glass walls - SHIELD loved those damned things, Jemma thought - but she didn’t get a good look. 

Instead, she followed Trip down from the backseat, and slid her fingers through Fitz’ when he appeared at her side, pressing in close. Coulson eyed them narrowly but moved on to Bobbi and Trip. “Welcome again, to the Preserve. This base has a compliment of roughly three hundred agents, but only about ten of those know all its secrets - and there are many, even for a SHIELD base.” 

“Agents Fitz and Simmons.” Coulson’s eyes swung back over to the biochemist and engineer. “You’re here because SHIELD has a problem and the two of you present a potential solution to it. You have a choice. Accept assignment here at the Preserve, as a pair, or continue on to your official assignments elsewhere. Agents Morse and Triplett, should you choose to accept, you will be assigned to guard these two as long as they’re serving at this base.” 

Bobbi was eyeing Coulson right back, her eyes narrowed and suspicious on her friend’s behalf. “Official assignments. Plural. As in, they either take this assignment without knowing what they’re getting into, or you’ll split them up again.” As a specialist she was trained to note anomalies and question them. And Coulson was another one of SHIELD’s secrets. She knew damned well the man had been killed in New York. Officially, at least. 

It hadn’t escaped Fitz’ notice that Bobbi’s posture had gone rigid as she spoke to the older man, spine stiffening as she squared her body to his. Even Trip was standing at attention, his face locked into the cool, disinterested expression he wore when he was on guard. They both looked combative, and it was enough to put the engineer on edge. Coulson might look like someone’s kindly father, but Fitz had no doubt that if he had enough power to summon the four of them at a moment’s notice, he was lethal. One didn’t rise that far in SHIELD without some combat skill, at least. 

Trying to make it look as natural as possible, Fitz shifted himself in front of Jemma, not enough to block her from sight, but enough to dart in front of her if need be. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he could fight (that was what they had Trip and Bobbi for, after all), but he wouldn’t let the biochemist take the brunt of anything, either. 

“I dinnae like agreein’ t’ things without knowin’ the details,” he began, fighting to keep his voice steady as he looked Coulson in the eye. “I’s no’ exactly fair, is i’?”

Coulson had to admit, for a man who had been buried in a SHIELD laboratory for the past decade, Leo Fitz had some courage, standing up to an agent of his rank. He smirked at the young engineer before glancing down to where he was still clutching Simmons’ hand. There’d been rumors, given their behavior the last day of the conference and their sudden desire to work together, but that was all the confirmation Coulson needed. 

“It might not be fair, Agent Fitz,” Coulson countered, meeting his stare, “but then again, neither is using company resources to try to shack up with your girlfriend.” He waited a beat, enjoying the blush rising up the scientists’ cheeks before continuing. “We’re willing to overlook this,” he nodded at the pair of them. “So long as you agree to work here at the Preserve, we ignore the blatant Section 17 violation. That’s the deal on the table; it’s up to you if you want to take it.” 

Jemma wasn’t having any of it. Not Fitz’ overprotective gesture, or Bobbi and Trip’s silent preparations to jump on the defensive if need be. She didn’t know who this Coulson character was, and something in her just snapped, angry at the way they’d been treated. SHIELD had virtually kidnapped the four of them, taking them off the grid with no warning to them or to anyone else who might care about their whereabouts, and brought to some remote location and basically threatened. 

“To be quite honest, Agent Coulson,” Jemma said, sidling out from behind Fitz. “Regardless of our personal feelings for each other, our projects have been some of the most creative and potentially the most useful that SHIELD has seen in some time. We’re of more good working together than we are apart and I suspect that SHIELD knows that,” she said firmly, drawing a grin from Bobbi, who shook her head when Trip moved like he was going to shush Jemma.

“Which is the only reason this offer is being made this way, at this time,” Coulson replied coolly. “And includes a written exemption from Section 17. Although let it be known that if something goes sour between you two, reassignment will not be an option until this particular project is complete.” 

The biochemist frowned at him but nodded once, tersely. The written exemption meant more to her than any promise from a high-ranking SHIELD official at the moment. “I want to see that paperwork and watch you sign it, and I want your personal guarantee that we’re not being dumped here to do some sort of unethical dirty work for this organization.” 

“Agent Simmons, you’re treading close to the line of insubordination, young lady.” Coulson was getting irritated now, a faint flush of color on his cheeks and Trip stepped between the two. 

“That’s what you get, scaring the hell out of scientists. They’ll come back to bite you, but they’re sneaky about it, unlike us specialists,” Trip said, trying to smooth things over. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a rough few days. We’re listening to the offer on the table, Agent Coulson, but the manner in which it’s being delivered isn’t making any of us feel very trusting.” 

Fitz stepped back, watching as Jemma and Trip took charge of telling Coulson off. He might have been imagining it, but he thought the man actually looked admonished, glancing down at his shined wingtips and clearing his throat before looking up once more. He was composed once more, and wore a small, uncertain smile. 

“I like to think of myself as an ethical man, Agent Simmons. I wouldn’t ask agents working under me to put their names on anything to change that. You have my word.”

Something about what he said, perhaps it was the tone, or the even way the words rolled off his tongue without the slightest hint of hesitation, made Fitz want to believe him. Yes, he knew that SHIELD at times participated in some ethically questionable activities, but that had never bothered him before. Granted, he’d never been ordered to leave a base on short notice before, either, so there was always a first time for everything. Reaching forward, he caught Jemma by the elbow and stepped up next to her. 

“Las’ time I checked, ethical men dinnae practice extortion.” Trip’s eyes snapped over to him, and despite knowing his friend would have greatly preferred that he shut up, kept going. “I mean, tha’s wha’ this is, righ’? We work for you, or we never see each other again.” His hand slipped down Jemma’s arm to find her fingers, and gave them a squeeze, as much to reassure himself as be a show of unity. “Or, we take our services elsewhere.”

Coulson sighed and looked at the two twenty-somethings before him. They were little more than kids; scarily, dangerously intelligent kids, but kids nonetheless. Kids who were throwing one hell of a temper tantrum. 

“I think a bit of extra information might be helpful,” Trip suggested, using what Fitz had long ago recognized as his peacemaker voice. “Before we all lose our heads.” 

Coulson’s lips puckered, clearly displeased by the suggestion, but relented. “I can’t give you details. All I can promise is that the project isn’t weapons related. At least, nothing beyond the sort of weapons you’ve already worked on.” With his hands on his hips, he looked like a large, perturbed bird. Fitz would have laughed, if he hadn’t been so worried about their future. 

He waited a beat, eyes narrowed as he considered Coulson, before leaning in to whisper to Jemma. “Wha’ d’ you think, lass? Wan’ a minute t’ talk about i’?”

Jemma glanced over at Fitz for a long moment and then at Trip and Bobbi. The latter two seemed relatively calm, but then, they were typically unflappable under stress anyway. Fitz looked as irritated as she felt. Her hazel eyes fixed on Coulson. “What if we get into this project, whatever it is you’re thinking we’re suited to, and hate it? You said we can’t transfer. What if we decide to leave altogether? Will that be allowed, or will we be SHIELD’s prisoners here once we’ve learned about the work we’ll be doing?” 

Bobbi startled at Jemma’s comment. For once, the biochemist had caught something she’d hadn’t in Coulson’s words and suddenly all four pairs of eyes were set on the older agent. 

“There will be… resistance,” Coulson admitted. “Because you two are rather uniquely suited for what SHIELD needs on this particular project, especially given the way you’ve blended your respective disciplines in the past. However. The procedure would be the same whether you choose to leave mid-project or in a decade. You will know too much and will likely be under SHIELD surveillance of some sort for the rest of your lives, no matter where you choose to go.” 

Jemma looked affronted, but Trip set a hand on her shoulder. “That’s actually standard procedure, Simmons. Once you reach certain levels of SHIELD, if you leave, they watch you forever. I’d guess Coulson here is an 8, maybe a 9. It would be the same for him.” Coulson confirmed this with a tight smile and a nod, even as Trip turned toward Coulson for a question of his own. “And what are Agent Morse and I to do here?”

“Act as bodyguards and trainers. Agents Fitz and Simmons may occasionally be required in the field. While we don’t expect them to obtain the same skills as a specialist, they will need some specialized tactics. Escape and evasion, for example,” Coulson explained easily. “I’ll give you some time to yourself to discuss your choices. Agents.” Once he’d excused himself, Coulson swiped his lanyard at a nearby door and vanished. 

Sighing, Jemma looked at the other three. “I… I don’t even know what to say. Is he serious?” 

Fitz stared at the door, expression dazed, as he tried to process what had happened over the past two hours. He jerked his eyes away from the cool steel, eyes dancing from Bobbi to Trip and finally over to Jemma. “I- I dinnae know, Jem.” He fell silent, his gaze drifting back to Bobbi. She’d been most comfortable with Coulson, had seemed to know the most about him. If anyone knew how to read him, Fitz would bet it’d be her. Waiting until her eyes were on him, the engineer put the question to her. “You know him. Can we trus’ ‘im?”

The tall blonde tilted her head, considering a moment before answering. “Coulson’s a company man,” she said with a shrug. “Decent enough, but loyal to SHIELD.”

“So, the question is whether he’s more loyal to the company or his ethics.” Trip was leaned against the wall, stare directed up toward the off-white drop ceiling. Fitz was surprised by how casually he seemed to be taking everything, but supposed it was a good thing. If they were in any serious danger, he’d be working to get them out. 

“Doesnae matter who he’s loyal t’,” the engineer insisted, “no’ really. Wha’ we need t’ decide is if we wan’ t’ take the offer.” He turned to Jemma, expression earnest. “Bottom line for me, I wan’ t’ work with you, Jemma. I dinnae need t’ work with SHIELD t’ do tha’.” 

Jemma was still unsettled by the idea of being watched, and talked her way through it. “I don’t like the idea of surveillance. But- Fitz, we’re both geniuses. If we stay, we’re likely to end up on another project like this, or at least promoted and end up on a watch list anyway. If we leave, we still might end up on one if we’re working independently. At least if we stick with SHIELD they’d be likely to take umbrage at someone else harassing us?” 

That last was a question directed at Trip and Bobbi, who both looked thoughtful and glanced at each other before nodding. “Probably true. SHIELD tends to feel like they own people, even once they’ve left the organization. That’d still be true now, by the way,” Trip pointed out. 

Her lips pressed together in a tight line, Jemma sighed. “This might be the best offer we’re going to get to stay with SHIELD, especially if we’re not going to be able to get rid of them easily anyway.” Her heart was pounding, stressed by having to make such a huge decision on so little information. And scared that if she got them into a bad situation that Fitz might not even want to stay any more. They had barely figured anything out between them, with the distance between Wyoming and Brazil. What if- 

“Shh, lass, relax. C’mere.” Fitz snaked an arm out and pulled Jemma in against his chest. Months of watching her work herself up while he sat thousands of miles away, helpless, had taught him to recognize when the biochemist was reaching her personal limits. Ignoring the looks he got from both Trip and Bobbi, he made quiet shushing sounds as he ran his hands up and down her back. Eventually, one of them found its way to her neck, and he began to gently work his fingers into the tense muscles he found there. 

“Take a deep breath, and remember: we’re better workin’ together. We’ll figure this ou’. Jus’ take a momen’ first, relax so you can think clearly.” 

He held her for a few moments more, rocking from side to side, until Jemma seemed to calm. Only then did he loosen his grip, arms slipping down to drape around her waist as he spoke. “I think you’re righ’ about SHIELD bein’ the lesser o’ two evils, so t’ speak.” Fitz swallowed, looking from the woman in his arms, over to the specialists, and back, trying to gather his thoughts. “‘M willin’ t’ take a chance on the projec’ if you are. If no’, I’m willin’ t’ walk, too, whether SHIELD has spooks followin’ me the res’ o’ my life or not. Like I said, Jemma, I jus’ wan’ t’ have the chance t’ be in the same city as you without havin’ t’ be at a conference.” 

Jemma let Fitz draw her in, but was tense in his hold for long moments after. It helped, having Fitz there, his arms real and solid around her and knowing that if this worked out, she’d have that support all the time. She’d always managed on her own, never having friends close enough to rely on until just recently, and it was something of a relief to know that there wasn’t something wrong with her. Jemma just hadn’t found the right people until now. 

The press of his fingers into the column of her neck made Jemma aware just how tense she was. Fitz’ words were reassuring, but she was still unsure of the decision. “I know, Fitz,” she said softly, “I want a chance to work with you, too, but this…” Jemma sucked in a deep breath and lifted her head from Fitz’ shoulder to peer at Bobbi and Trip. “What do you two think?” 

Bobbi glanced at Trip and then back at Jemma. “We’re in. I don’t think Coulson would knowingly do anything unethical. The extra training from us can only help, if something does go pear-shaped. And from what I know of Jemma and have heard of Fitz, you two are geniuses. Between the four of us, I have a feeling that if we can’t get ourselves out of a sticky situation, no one could.” 

Swallowing hard, Jemma turned her gaze back to Fitz, hazel eyes meeting his blue ones from a scant distance. “I’m in if you are,” she said quietly, her voice shaking a bit as her nerves registered she was making the huge decision despite the unfavorable circumstances. Jemma’s fingers were clenched in the back of Fitz’ shirt where neither of the specialists could see, a fine tremble running through her body that she hoped none of them noticed.

Relief washed over him at Jemma’s quiet agreement, and a grin breakout as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. They would be working together. Stationed together. Given permission to date without the whole of the SHIELD hierarchy coming down on their heads. There was a tiny part of him that still worried they were trying to get something lethal out of the two of them, but he was willing to take Bobbi at her word, and the bottom line was, they’d get to stay in the same place for more than a weekend. 

“‘M in. No question.” He gave her a little squeeze, hoping the calm the small tremor he’d felt running through her and tried to see if teasing would do anything to lift her spirits. “Although… d’you think I could negotiate for a monkey?”

~*~

The meeting with Coulson to give him their answer was almost a letdown after that. Even though Jemma was still on edge, the worst part was over, now she had to live with the choice she’d made and hope for the best. 

Coulson had given them a brief tour of what looked to be a tiny area of the massive base they’d driven through, and shown them to a series of bunkrooms. Their bags were in neat piles in the hall, and he directed them to pick a bunk and get settled, promising a full briefing and tour in the morning. After peeking into a few, Jemma found they were all similar setups, a small common area and office, a bathroom and bedroom. And much to her pleasure, real beds rather than the bunks that she’d been expecting based on Coulson’s phrasing. 

The hall was a dead-end, and Bobbi and Trip quickly grabbed their bags and claimed the rooms closest to the exit as Jemma looked shyly at Fitz. “I know we have an exemption, but… Perhaps we should each take a room for now? Until things settle?” She wouldn’t be opposed to sharing later on, once they were more certain of each other. For now, Jemma liked the idea of having a space to retreat to, if she needed to be alone. 

He nodded, more than happy to go along with Jemma’s idea. While he very much wanted to share a bed with her each night, he had no plans to push her, either. There was also the small problem that, given SHIELD’s policy in regard to fraternization, each bunk was only designed to store the belongings of one agent. Unless they used their spare time to modify the closets, there was no way they’d ever fit all of their things into one space. 

“Tha’s fine, Jem.” He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and stooped to claim one of the drone cases, stepping forward as he did so. “Bu’ I wan’ you t’ know tha’ you’re welcome t’ come over whenever you wan’. As often as you wan’.” He didn’t want to push her, but Fitz wanted to make sure she knew that he wanted her in his space, at least as often as she wanted to be there. Adjusting his grip on his bags, he stepped toward the room nearest to him, next to Trip, only to pause and look back at her. 

“Meet in the lab after we settle a bi’? See our new toys and wha’ no’?”

Jemma nodded and picked up her own bags, biting her lip when she lifted the third one so she could be lazy and only make one trip. “I have a feeling we’ll be spending quite a lot of time in each other’s rooms,” she said softly. Given the separation the last few months and how much they still needed to figure out, the odds were they’d be at each other’s sides most of the time. 

“I’d bet Coulson hasn’t set up our lab access yet, though,” Jemma pointed out. “He used that lanyard to access everything and we don’t have them yet.” All the bunks had been unlocked, although the scanners were in place. She’d bet they’d be secured that way tomorrow, once they let the older agent know who was where. “It’ll take me a bit to unpack. Come over when you’re done?” Jemma motioned toward the door across the hall from his, next to Bobbi’s. 

“All righ’,” he agreed, kicking his final bag toward his room. It clipped the door frame and Fitz gave it one more kick to send it skidding over the threshold. He turned when he heard Jemma chuckle, a blush creeping up his cheeks, and gave her a sheepish grin. “Glad I dinnae pack anythin’ breakable in tha’ one. Give me a’ half hour, and I’ll be over.”

~*~

Fitz was as good as his word, taking twenty or so minutes to unpack and stow everything in his new quarters before using the final ten to set up a small workbench on the would-be desk, just in case he wanted the chance to tinker with something outside of the lab. When he was done, he looked around, and feeling pleased with himself, grabbed his laptop and ducked across the hall to Jemma’s room. 

He knocked once before letting himself in. The smile he’d been wearing in anticipation of seeing her quickly fell though, seeing Jemma sitting at the edge of her bed, shoulders slumped and staring into the distance. He slid the door shut behind him and moved to sit next to her. “Jemma? Wha’s wrong, lass? Is there somethin’ I can do?”

Jemma made it about halfway through unpacking before everything caught up to her. The stress of the past few days, the uncertainty of not knowing where she was going or what was going to happen mingled with the newer fears of what SHIELD might be planning to ask her and Fitz to do. The exemption from Section 17, as much as it thrilled her to know they could pursue a relationship without it hanging over their head, made her wary. It wasn’t like SHIELD to make that sort of offer unless they really needed to sweeten a deal. 

She sank down on the bed, drawing her feet up to rest on the edge of the bedframe, and huffed out a breath, her posture sagging into the position Fitz found her in a little while later. Jemma managed a wan smile for him and tipped against his side almost immediately when he sat beside her. “It’s just a lot to take in. You know I don’t handle stress well,” Jemma murmured. It was an understatement, really, and Fitz knew all too well from dealing with her lately. “I’ll feel better knowing all the details tomorrow. In the meantime, I just need some time to decompress. Let everything settle down.” 

Glancing at the laptop he’d brought with him and then up to meet his eyes, Jemma gave him a hopeful little quirk of her brow and mouth. “I don’t suppose you have a stash of movies somewhere on there, do you?” 

“A series or two, too.” The corner of Fitz’ mouth quirked upward, mirroring Jemma’s expression, and he adjusted his grip on his laptop so he could get his arm around her, effectively plastering her to his side. In his haste to get back to Jemma, he’d rushed through unpacking, not really taking the time to stop and allow all of the implications for their new positions within SHIELD to sink in. He did that now, pressing a kiss to her temple before he pulled away. 

“I’s a big change, but we’ll weather i’ together. No’ jus’ us, but with Trip and Bobbi, too. You’ll see.” He eventually relinquished his grip on her and opened his laptop so he could pull up the media folder holding his stash of movies and TV series. “You in th’ mood for somethin’ in particular, lass, or did you wan’ t’ browse a bi’?”

“I know… It’s just going to take some getting used to,” Jemma sighed. Having all three of them here, even though she didn’t know Trip as well as she’d like, was comforting. At least she wasn’t alone in whatever mess they were getting into. Unlike those first weeks at the Treehouse when even the science hadn’t been able to distract her from the anxiety about being hours away from civilization. 

Leaning in closer to Fitz’ shoulder, she peered at his neatly organized list of movies, all properly categorized and indexed with a consistent naming convention, and smothered a chuckle. He was as fussy as she was about some things. “Here, let me look and see if something catches my attention. I’m going to need to shower and change before I settle down, too.” Jemma’s nose wrinkled. “Probably should have taken care of that first, now that I think about it.” 

Fitz nodded his understanding; he and Trip had only been traveling two days, but he was still feeling road-worn and grimy. He doubted SHIELD had afforded either of them much of a chance to shower, and given the fact that she’d been on the road 48 hours longer, he sympathized with that particular impulse. It might help her settle in, too, make her little unit feel more like home for the time being. 

Still, he turned the laptop toward her, allowing Jemma to take control and look through his media files. That had been another one of his “hobbies” at the Ranch, amassing a media collection that would make any college slacker jealous, and Fitz couldn’t help the proud little smirk when she realized just how extensive the folder was. 

“Le’s do this. Le’s pick somethin’ t’ watch, then we can both grab a shower and pu’ on somethin’ more comfortable. I’ll even go see if I can fin’ anythin’ worth eatin’ in the kitchen.” Fitz knew they had passed a room with a refrigerator and pantry on their way to the dormitories; he just hoped that it was stocked with some decent junk food, and not only the healthy stuff he was certain Jemma, Trip, and even Bobbi would be haranguing him to eat from now on. 

Not for the first time, Jemma wondered where this reasonable, attentive Fitz had been hiding all those years ago. She was too tired to argue with him right now, and now that she had thought about it, her skin was crawling with the need for a shower. The sketchy ones she’d gotten on the breaks between flights hadn’t been nearly enough, and they hadn’t been with her own toiletries, leaving her skin feeling odd and tight after. 

She leaned in to give Fitz a quick buss on the cheek and slid off the bed, tugging at her clothes. There was a choked sound from behind her when she tossed her shirt toward the empty bag on the floor, and Jemma glanced back to find Fitz staring at her, his jaw loose and working soundlessly. “Oh… god, Fitz, I didn’t even think.” Jemma bit at the side of her mouth and blushed faintly even as she shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it isn’t as if you haven’t seen it before, or that I mind you looking, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

The knot in her stomach eased a little at Fitz’ rapt attention as she stripped her pants off, leaving her in a plain set of navy blue bra and knickers. He hadn’t moved so much as an inch, she thought, and she threw the pants at him, giggling. “Are you going to go take a shower or stay and watch me?” 

Somehow, Fitz managed to tear his eyes away from Jemma’s curves (had he known that navy cotton could be that alluring?) to glance down at the lightweight khakis she’d tossed into his lap. “Well, if watchin’ is on the table…” he began, both teasing and serious by equal measure. If Jemma was willing to let him shower with her, he’d be more than happy to, simply for the chance to be affectionate with her. The look she shot him though told Fitz she didn’t quite agree with his proposal, and he gave her a sheepish grin in response. 

“Sorry, Jemma. I, uh…” he watched as she turned away from him once more, reaching behind her to undo the snaps on her bra. The garment fluttered to the floor, and Fitz had to swallow heavily before he could speak again. “Righ’. I’ll jus’ go shower an’ change in my room then. Be back in a bi’!”

With one last grin for the biochemist, he hurried out of her room and across the hall, ridiculously pleased that he lived in a world where Jemma Simmons was willing to strip down in front of him.


	13. Chapter 13

As much as she was tempted to, Jemma didn’t linger in the shower, only enough to scrub the grime from her body and steal a few minutes under the hottest water she could stand to loosen the muscles in her shoulders and back. She shivered in the cool air of her room as she tugged on the thin camisole and shorts she usually wore to bed, but there didn’t seem to be a thermostat or any other environmental control in the room. She’d have to ask Coulson about that tomorrow. After a few years in Brazil, Jemma didn’t have much that was appropriate for a cooler environment. 

Instead she curled up under the blankets on the bed and tugged Fitz’ laptop over, scrolling through the extensive collection of movies he’d compiled. Jemma wasn’t in the mood for anything thought provoking, especially since she wasn’t sure she’d stay awake to finish watching anything. Thus when she found a few of her old favorites, she queued them into a playlist. Fitz could pick from those when he got back. 

He showered quickly, scrubbing himself down to strip away the grime left over from so much time spent in the air over the past 48 hours. Once he was out, he actually took the time to shave, wanting to put at least some kind of effort into his appearance. He knew Jemma liked him, but that was no excuse for him to be entirely lackadaisical about his appearance. He dressed himself in a pair of warm pajama bottoms and a long sleeved thermal shirt before stepping into his slippers. 

Feeling much more human after washing up, he meandered down the hall and into the kitchen. A few moments of rifling through the cabinets turned up a few bags of microwavable popcorn, which while not his first choice, would do in a pinch. He made two bags, and dumping them into one large bowl, carted it and two bottles of water back to Jemma’s room. 

“Jemma?” he called, knocking as best he could on the frame before tapping the open control with his elbow. “You ready for movie nigh’?” 

“In here, Fitz,” Jemma called, directing him back into her room. She was still curled into the covers, bare arms and shoulders peeking out, Fitz’ laptop on the mattress in front of her. Looking far more relaxed but also more tired, she gave Fitz what might have been the first genuine smile that had crossed her face all week. Despite everything, she was happy to see him and Jemma wasn’t sure she’d made that clear. 

Reaching out toward him, Jemma motioned Fitz over to join her, lifting the edge of the blankets to make a space for his slender body to fit in beside hers. Catching Fitz hesitate, her hazel eyes flew up to his, confused. “What?” she asked, suddenly hesitant and feeling shy. 

Something about that tiny, seemingly insignificant gesture froze Fitz in his tracks. Sure, part of it was likely because it reminded him of what had happened the last time Jemma had invited him into her bed, but that wasn’t all of it. It was simply such a natural move on her part, without any of the shyness they’d both experienced before, that Fitz found himself touched by it. As if her constant work over the past weeks hadn’t been evidence enough, here he was seeing yet another sign that she wanted him there, with her, in her space. 

“Nothin’. Nothin’ a’ all.” He gave her a smile as he shook himself out of it, pausing to set the bowl of popcorn and waters down on her bedside table before slipping onto the mattress next to her. Jemma didn’t seem content to take that as an answer, though, and Fitz noticed the disbelieving, nearly suspicious, look she was giving him as he settled in. Placing a gentle hand on her hip, he scooted closer as he explained. “I jus’... I like tha’ you made room for me. Tha’ i’s obvious you wan’ me here. You’re no’ jus’ sayin’ i’, you know? Tha’s all.” 

Jemma’s shoulders slumped in relief, her cheeks flushed pink. She wasn’t embarrassed exactly, but flustered that Fitz had noticed something so small and commented on it. “Silly. Of course I want you here,” she told him, her voice matter of fact. “I was just thinking that with everything else, I wasn’t sure you knew I was happy to see you.” She’d spend enough time over the years being on her own and sometimes feeling like the third or fifth wheel to know how terrible that feeling could be. 

And she’d missed him terribly on top of everything else, so seeing him so unexpectedly today had been a gift of sorts, one bright spot in a terrible week.

The warmth of his fingers easily transferred through the thin shorts Jemma was wearing, and she waited until he was settled before she twisted up onto her knees. Catching his shoulders in her hands, Jemma leaned in close to him and peppered kisses over Fitz’ face. “I missed you, you berk. And I’m so very glad you’re here.” 

Jemma’s quick action caught him by surprise, leaving Fitz frozen for the first few kisses she laid on him. He recovered quickly, though, getting an arm around her waist and squaring himself toward her so he could catch her jaw in his free hand and hold her still for a proper kiss. He let himself sink into this one, figuring he’d behaved himself enough earlier in the holding room they’d had them in. It’d been months since he’d seen her and been able to do this, and now that they had SHIELD’s permission and were behind closed doors, he didn’t see a reason to hold himself back. 

Well, at least were kissing was concerned. Given what they’d been through, Fitz didn’t think either of them were much in the mood for more than kissing and cuddling, and he was fine with that. Still, when his arm loosened around her waist so he could stroke his palm along her spine, he couldn’t help but notice one piece of clothing Jemma had most certainly foregone while getting ready for bed. The band of her bra was conspicuously missing, leaving Fitz blushing when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Missed you, too, baby girl,” he muttered, hiding his flush by pressing another kiss to her cheek. Tossing the blankets off his lap, he spread his legs, clearing a place for her between his knees. “C’mere.” She gave him a questioning look, and Fitz tugged at her again, insisting. “Call me a sap, bu’ I’d like t’ hold you a bi’. C’mere and we can ge’ started.” 

Surprised and pleased, Jemma beamed at him despite her tiredness and readily crawled into the space he’d made for her. It didn’t take much more than a moment for Jemma to find a comfortable spot, leaned back against Fitz’ chest, her head tucked under his chin. Once he brought his arms around her and she tugged the blankets back up over them both, cocooning herself and Fitz in warmth, Jemma couldn’t have been happier. 

Reaching for the laptop, she tugged it toward her and up into her lap, showing Fitz the movies she’d put on her short list. “I’ll be happy with any of those, so pick whichever catches your fancy,” Jemma directed. Now that she was relaxing, she was sure she’d never make it through an entire movie, but that wasn’t the point. If this assignment turned out well, she’d have gotten exactly what she wanted and she wanted to bask in that hope. And in Fitz. 

He tucked his chin into the crook of her neck as he reached out to take control of the laptop, grin widening as he glanced over the movies Jemma had selected. They were all light, not a serious plot line to be seen, and mostly pulled from his childhood favorites. His eyes lit up when he saw the last one she’d added, though, and he quickly clicked into it. 

“Feel like startin’ with Wall-E and goin’ from there?” Fitz nibbled on his lip as he waited for her answer. He assumed that since Jemma put it on the list, she’d be okay watching it, but wasn’t sure if it was her first choice. If she really wanted to watch something else, he’d be happy to let her take the lead. 

“Sure,” Jemma agreed easily. She wasn’t as much a fan of movies as much as she was of good storytelling, and she adored Wall-E. It was only at the end of the list because the Ws were at the end of the alphabet and that’s the order she’d gone through his collection. 

Once he’d started the movie, Jemma reached for the bowl of popcorn and brought it over from the nightstand. Nestling the big bowl into the blankets near Fitz’ hip, within easy reach for the both of them, she fell silent, nibbling on their snack and following the story of the little robot. In between the more important scenes of the movie, Jemma mused on just how comfortable it was to be curled into a bed with Fitz given how little time they’d actually spent in each other’s company. But as much as they’d talked and emailed and texted since Miami, she’d gotten to know him. The real him, not the surly teenager she’d known back at the Academy. 

As much pain as he’d inadvertently caused her then, and apparently she’d done her share of damage to him as well, Jemma privately thought it might have been for the best. She’d learned to value these quiet moments, where she could be in someone else’s space and just be there, completely herself and yet still be half of a larger whole. To think if it hadn’t been for that forum, Jemma would never have known there was a whole other side to Leopold Fitz she’d never dreamed existed. 

Paying less attention to the movie and more to Fitz as she drifted closer to sleep, Jemma shifted the computer off her lap, leaving it where he’d still be able to see the screen. Free to move, she wriggled about in the circle of Fitz’ arms until her knees were tucked beneath one of his bent up legs, her torso draped over his. Sleepily nuzzling into the curve of Fitz’ neck, she fumbled to swipe his hand away from the computer. “No, leave it on,” she mumbled. “”M still watchin’.” 

Fitz had given up watching the movie long ago, opting instead to focus on the woman who had draped herself across his lap and seemed intent on using his shoulder as a pillow. He’d never realized just how cuddly Jemma could be; sure, she’d certainly been affectionate in Miami, and they had done their share of cuddling there, but something was different this time. Perhaps it was because neither of them had to hold back this time, knowing that as long as they kept up their end of the bargain they could stay together, or maybe it was the fact that they were both slap happy from long days of travel.

Either way, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when he finally felt this happy. He chuckled softly as she swiped at his wrist, sinking lower into the covers and taking Jemma with him. If she was going to fall asleep, Fitz didn’t want to end up in a position that would leave his neck sore in the morning. “All righ’, all righ’, lass,” he whispered, ducking so he could whisper in her ear. “I’ll leave the movie on for a bi’ longer.” He hated to do so, but he had to wake her up a bit to get her resettled, leaving their legs tangled up and Jemma sprawled across his chest before reaching over to shut off the bedside light. 

Fitz watched Jemma as she slept, far more interested in the way her breath washed against his chest and the way she snuggled in against his sternum periodically than he was in a movie he’d seen two dozen times. By the time the end credits were rolling, the biochemist was fast asleep. He took a moment to admire the way she looked in the dim blue glow before he reached out, shut his laptop, and brought his arm back around her so he, too, could fall asleep. 

Jemma slept deeply, worn out by the traveling and the stress of not knowing what was going on. She woke to a dark cocoon of blankets and skin and limbs and it took a minute or two of complete confusion to remember where she was and who she was with. In the chill of the underground rooms, she’d snuggled down against Fitz’ chest, the blankets drawn up over her head. His arms were around her shoulders, keeping her close, their legs a tangled mess. 

His morning erection was in clear evidence, a solid pressure against her belly, and Jemma briefly considered and discarded the idea of seducing him first thing. She’d already done that once, in Miami, and while Jemma was very much interested in having more sex with Fitz… She should probably at least let him wake up first. 

Half asleep, Fitz tightened his grip on Jemma, not wanting her to get too far away. He wasn’t ready to wake up yet, to face Coulson or the reality of the work they’d been recruited to do. He wanted a few more minutes of just this, the two of them, wrapped in blankets half asleep, and maybe, once his brain was firing on all cylinders, some chatting. 

Cracking an eye, he glanced down at the Jemma-shaped bundle of blankets against his chest, an involuntary smile breaking across his face. “If I le’ you go,” he began, voice heavy with sleep, “do you promise no’ t’ go jumpin’ out o’ bed? I’s too early, lass, and too col’ out there for tha’ nonsense, yeah?” 

Jemma let out an affectionate but slightly grumpy mumble against his chest, curling closer to him. She had no intention of moving, not until their bodies demanded food or a bathroom, whichever came first. It was definitely too cold, Jemma’s back feeling cool even under the covers, or perhaps that was simply in contrast to the heat Fitz put off against her front. 

She couldn’t see a clock, obviously, but she trusted Fitz when he said it was too early. They didn’t know where to go or what they were to do yet, anyway. A mischievous thought popped into her head, and feeling lazy but a little playful, Jemma went with it. She felt Fitz lift his arms out of her way, his limbs hovering in midair, confused about what she was doing. By the time he figured it out, she’d made it obvious, putting her hands and mouth to work. 

Despite having more experience than Fitz, Jemma hadn’t actually done this for very many people, and she couldn’t help but be nervous. She hadn’t asked, and… She hesitated, unsure now. She hadn’t asked, and just because he woke up with an erection didn’t mean he was in the mood for anything. Or that he’d necessarily like what she was doing.

When he’d first woken, Fitz had only hoped for an hour or so of quiet cuddling and kissing; he’d been aware of his morning erection straining against the soft heat of Jemma’s tummy, true, but figured she’d ignore it. They had nothing but time together now, after all. There was no need to rush anything. But when he felt her fingers curl into the waistband of his pants, nails lightly scraping over his hips, Fitz found himself acting on instinct. He lifted his hips with a quiet moan, his mind going blank as first her fingers, then her lips, brushed against him. 

His hands scrambled beneath the covers for her, wanting any bit of contact he could get with Jemma if seeing her wasn’t an option for him. His fingers found her hair first, skimming over what he knew were chestnut colored strands, curving gently over the tops of her ears before brushing against her neck and down to her shoulders. Fitz paused there, fascinated by the feeling of her tensed shoulders, holding herself above him as she pleasured him, before skimming the rest of the way down to find her hands where they lay over his hips. 

“Chris’, Jemma,” he moaned, breaking the silence of the room once more, “please dinnae stop tha’.” Threading their fingers together, he gave himself over to Jemma, happy to let her take the lead. 

The stunned fumble of Fitz’ hands didn’t help Jemma’s hesitation much, and she nearly drew back, still worried she’d gotten ahead of herself. His soft words though, punctuated as they were by his sound of pleasure, reassured her along with the way he caught and held her hands. Jemma didn’t have the opportunity to do this for him in Miami, and she worked slowly, teasing Fitz with her lips and tongue as she learned what he liked best. 

By the time she’d coaxed an orgasm out of him, Jemma was trembling with her own arousal, the press of the blankets against her sensitive skin only making it worse. This had been for Fitz though, and she wasn’t entirely worried about it if he wasn’t interested in reciprocating. It wasn’t as if she’d never waited out her hormones before. She greedily drew in the cool air when she surfaced from under the blankets, settling against her own pillow and smiling gently at the dazed expression on Fitz’ face. 

“Good morning,” she said softly, her tone teasing. 

He chuffed out a soft laugh, amused and affectionate, before turning onto his side to get his arms around Jemma, and pulled her in for a kiss. She was warm and soft and Fitz did his best to sink into her in that moment, happier than he could have imagined to finally find himself back in her bed. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to make her feel as good as she’d done for him, and used the press of his body to coax Jemma onto her back without bothering to adjust his pajama bottoms. 

She was pliant beneath him, and Fitz kissed a line of kisses over her chin and down her neck, savoring each soft sound that slipped from her lips. It was only when he reached her collarbone, and after he nuzzled the strap out of his way, that he contemplated what it was he was hoping to accomplish. They hadn’t been able to explore everything in that one morning, and he’d been fantasizing of being able to use his mouth on her for ages now, enough so that the very thought caused his groin to stir once more. 

Still, faced with the possibility of being able to actually make good on those fantasies left Fitz feeling shy. Pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, he felt himself flush before ducking to nuzzle against her clothed breast. “Jemma,” he murmured, fighting off his nerves, “can you… I mean, would you min’ if I tried t’ do tha’? For you?” 

Jemma wasn’t used to shy Fitz, and his hesitant expression and tone sent her heartbeat pattering in her chest. Reaching for him, she cradled his cheek in her palm, drawing him down against her chest and leaning down to press a kiss into his curls. “Of course, if that’s what you want,” she reassured him. “But you don’t have to. I didn’t do that because I expected anything in return.” 

She couldn’t help hoping that he would, although Jemma simply held him there, her thumb stroking a slow arc along his cheekbone until Fitz made up his mind. They had plenty of time now to figure things out, as long as Coulson turned out to be on the up and up. Jemma had faith in Bobbi’s judgment of him though, and was hoping everything would work out for the best. For now though, she had a certain Scottish engineer in her bed and chose to focus on him. 

Jemma’s touch was gentle, reassuring, and Fitz relished it, along with her soft words. He was hesitant, not because he didn’t like the idea of what he’d suggested, but because he worried he wouldn’t be able to please her. He trusted Jemma to be patient with him, to coach him through any missteps he might make, but he wanted it to be good for her. 

“I want this.” He inched her tank top up, exposing the skin of her stomach as he scooted down between her legs. He pressed a line of kisses along her belly, fingers curling into the band of her shorts as his lips skimmed against the cotton. “Jus’... please be patien’ with me, lass. ‘M… ‘m no’ exactly sure wha’ ‘m doin’.” He glanced up at her, and once he saw the reassuring little nod she gave him, tugged the scrap of cotton down her legs. 

Appreciating why he was nervous, Jemma sat up once he’d tossed her shorts to the side, leaning in for more kisses. “Just take your time,” she whispered against his mouth, reminding him that he knew more than he thought. “There’s no rush. It’s the same general idea from when you used your fingers, in Miami.” It also would help that she was already turned on from going down on him, but she figured she’d let him figure that out for himself. 

Jemma laid back after that, sprawling over the bed and making herself comfortable, relaxed and willing to let Fitz figure things out, even if he teased her terribly, or took forever to actually bring her to orgasm. It was his first time, after all, and Jemma knew he was open to feedback. 

Taking her at her word, Fitz took a deep breath and began, trying to keep in mind what she’d told him. He experimented, running his tongue over her, varying speed and pressure and focus, and kept a careful watch for feedback from Jemma. It was dim in the room, but he did his best to notice which strokes made her legs and belly twitch, and he was able to track what made her moan. It was far from perfect, and Fitz made his share of missteps as he strove to bring her to orgasm, but he got her there eventually. 

Despite achieving the ultimate goal, Fitz couldn’t keep himself from running an inventory on what had worked and what hadn’t. The next time Jemma allowed him to use his mouth on her, he’d finish her faster than that. Not wanting to allow his musing to drag his mood down, he placed a kiss low on her belly and pushed himself up to lay along her side, and tugged her against him. “If I were allowed t’ do tha’ every mornin’,” he confided, nuzzling against her cheek, “I migh’ consider workin’ for free.” 

Giggling quietly, Jemma let Fitz draw her in, lifting her head so he could set his arm around her shoulders, the other draped heavily over her waist. “It gets easier, I think,” she replied between kisses, “With practice.” He wasn’t terrible, but a little uncoordinated and more than a bit hesitant. Jemma had stayed mostly quiet this time, letting him figure it out for himself and only giving the occasional hint, but she made note of a few things to mention some other time, when it wouldn’t feel so much like criticism than it would right at this moment. 

She was just reaching the point where she thought she could drift off again when a comm system clicked on with a short series of beeps and Coulson’s voice came through. “FitzSimmons - I need you in the lab for your official briefing in a half hour.” 

Fitz groaned at hearing the older agent’s voice, ducking to bury his face in Jemma’s shoulder. He’d expected that they’d be put to work eventually, but he hadn’t thought eventually would come quite so soon. After the relaxed scheduled he’d been permitted at the Ranch, and Jemma’s at the Treehouse, neither of them was used to keeping standard business hours. Somehow, Fitz didn’t think Coulson would much care for them conducting experiments and writing reports on their own schedule. 

Reaching out to brush a finger across Jemma’s cheek, he gave her a wan smile. “Looks like we need t’ learn t’ work a se’ schedule. Dinnae think we’ll ge’ away with showin’ up a’ odd hours here.” Fitz valued his sleep, as anyone who knew him could attest. He’d have to learn to curb that here though; Coulson was willing to give them a chance to work together while turning a blind eye to their relationship. No need to ruin that by being too terse in the morning. 

“Not necessarily. I’d imagine someone as high up as Coulson is quite busy. He probably needs to get us set up here and go off to do something else,” Jemma pointed out. She buried her fingers in Fitz’ curls though, lightly scratching his scalp and down the back of his neck where he’d hidden against her shoulder. As disappointed as she was by the interruption, it was likely for the best. Jemma suspected she could get entirely caught up in Fitz and not realize she was wasting hours if they stayed curled up together like this. 

She sighed softly and wriggled out of his hold, moving to clean up and get dressed. Between the sleep and Fitz and knowing things were finally beginning to work out, Jemma felt lighter than she had in months. It showed in the way she moved, the set of her shoulders more relaxed already. 

~*~

It was even more of a relief to meet with Coulson and discover his true purpose for putting them here, at the Preserve. When the older agent bundled himself into another vehicle and took off for the airfield, leaving them and the two specialists with the full details of their assignments, Jemma couldn’t stop the grin on her face. Not only were they consulting with a special operations field team, but they’d been given access to the SHIELD archives to assist in their research. 

Fitz, for his part couldn’t stop watching this bright, smiley version of his girlfriend. He hadn’t seen Jemma be this bubbly in a long while, not since Miami, and he found he quite liked the way she floated around the lab, fingers skimming over the tabletops as she took a mental inventory. He did his best, trying to keep his observations to a few sly glances out of the corner of his eye, but he was sure he was doing a terrible job of it, what with the way his own grin was splitting his face as he finished stowing the last of his equipment

“I’s rather amazin’, righ’?” Fitz snaked out an arm to catch Jemma around the waist as she passed him, stalling her exploration of the lab. He resisted the urge to pull her in close, however, not wanting to draw more attention to them than was strictly necessary. Given the way SHIELD agents gossiped, he was certain that their colleagues already knew about the two of them, and their exception to Section 17. There was no need to give them any more fodder for the gossip mill. Releasing her, he pushed himself up to sit on the lab bench. 

“Almos’ doesnae seem fair tha’ we ge’ paid t’ do this, does i’?”

Jemma beamed up at him. “No. No, it doesn’t,” she laughed. “I knew SHIELD had to be hiding all of this stuff somewhere, but who knew it would be something like this? I figured it would be some nondescript warehouse in LA or something ridiculous. Although, as terrible as they usually are about naming bases… The Preserve. Really? Even if it’s under a nature preserve, you’d think someone would have caught on.” 

Their new lab was well equipped, but not cluttered, thanks to the convenient storage rooms they’d been given charge of. Someone had known who was going to be in this lab, Jemma thought. The supplies provided were rather too specific to the both of them. And Coulson had indicated they’d be free to pursue personal projects if time allowed. All in all, she couldn’t be happier, especially given her previous worry about being asked to do particularly unethical things. 

Heaving out a happy, contented sigh, Jemma looked around the room again. “We should get this place organized the way we want it and our things unpacked. Who knows when Coulson might call and need us to work on something?” Her fingers were already itching to get her hands on some of the new equipment. 

While she was busy looking around the room, Fitz was busy watching her, more dazed and happy than he could put in words regarding their situation. Being given an unlimited budget and the freedom to work on what you wanted, time permitting, all in exchange for consulting with a field team, was the stuff dreams were made of. The look on Jemma’s face told him she thought so, too, and in his giddiness, he found himself slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, glass walls be damned. 

Quick as anything, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, short but sweet, and pulled back to give her a rather cheeky grin. “If you wan’ t’ get organized, we can do tha’. Probably won’ take too long anyway.” If Fitz had to guess, someone had gone through their labs after they’d been moved, noting where each scientist had kept which materials; there was no other explanation for the way their drawers were arranged. True, a few things weren’t exactly where he’d like them, but other than that, it was downright spooky how familiar it felt. 

“Fitz!” Jemma swatted at him as he drew back, but the grin on her face and the utter lack of heat in her voice gave her away. It really wouldn’t take too long, but Jemma would feel better for having done it - more prepared for what she was sure was going to be a lot of responsibility - and probably pressure, too. Eyeing him, Jemma quirked an eyebrow. “The sooner we get organized, the sooner we can get back to doing whatever we want.” 

The way she quirked her brow caught his attention, and Fitz had to catch his lower lip between his teeth to keep from grinning like an outright loon. As far as he was concerned, he was the luckiest bastard on the planet: he had a dream job, a brilliant partner, and best of all, she was his girlfriend, to boot. He took a purposeful step nearer to Jemma and leaned in, just keeping his lips from actually touching her cheek when he spoke. 

“If wha’ you wan’ is t’ organize the lab, ‘m all for it, lass… provided you promise we can organize our bedrooms nex’.”

Jemma caught at Fitz’ forearm, bracing herself as she went up on her toes. “Along with other things,” she whispered to him, clearly teasing. When she settled back onto her heels, she bit her lip, an impish look on her face as she met his eyes again. “So. Let’s get on with that, shall we?” 

“Your wish is my command, Jem.” The words were followed by a quick wink before Fitz turned on his heel and headed toward the first storage closet. He had a feeling that he’d be saying that a lot, not only in the coming future but hopefully for many years after that. And the truth of the matter was, he didn’t mind that being the case one bit.


End file.
